


Hopeless and Heartless

by LateNiteSlacker



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Dirk's Issues, I'm told you might need tissues, Lots of tags up there but the main ship is Dirk/Jake and Dirk is the main character!, M/M, Plot Twists, Supernatural Elements, incubus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:05:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 234,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateNiteSlacker/pseuds/LateNiteSlacker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Dirk Strider, charged with fighting off the demons of Derse in a world where everyone is supernatural. Can you keep up the fight and somehow make the oblivious Jake English realize your affections for him?  Yes.  Yes you can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Striders Don't Cry

** Chapter 1: Striders Don’t Cry **

**Dirk == > Cry like a fucking baby**

No thanks.  You’re DIRK STRIDER and you don’t cry like a fucking baby.  But you will silently mourn your partner’s loss from afar.  They had to have a daytime ceremony in the middle of a blessed holy park, the pricks.  You were her best friend, and you thought they’d have a little sensitivity to your condition but apparently not.

And so your best friend and only partner ROXY LALONDE is being laid to rest in a little pixie grave with all the other sad little pixies in some hallowed park beneath the bright shining sun.  Probably next to a waterfall and a rainbow or something gaudy as hell like that. 

Meanwhile, you’re stuck inside, staring at a picture of your last night out on the town together while you silently mourn her loss on your own.  In the picture, Roxy’s wearing her favorite purple and black striped scarf (the one you got her years ago.)  She’s grinning like an idiot and she’s got you in a less-than-ironic chokehold in one arm while she takes the picture with the other.  She even pulled out her spunky little purple fairy wings for the pic.

That’s right.  Roxy was a fairy.  You’re really surprised that you didn’t figure it out sooner.  Two years you worked together before you finally figured it out.  Then again, she was damned good at hiding it.  Roxy had learned to change her size at will, a handy skill on more than one occasion.

She was spunky, she was sexy, and you loved her.  But now she’s gone, and tonight you’ll have another partner to deal with.  You’re not sure you’re ready for that yet, but you’re a Strider. You won’t spout cliché nonsense about how you feel hopeless or like your heart’s been ripped out.  You’ll do what you have to do, and nobody will ever know how much her death hurts you inside.  You’ll work like a pro and kick those demon’s asses back to Derse where they came from.

But that’s tonight.  For now, you’ve got a whole day to cry like a fucking baby.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Go to work**

You arrive at the back-alley bar/lounge a good three hours after sunset.  That’s three hours late, but you just can’t bring yourself to care tonight.  Of course, one specific motherfucker does care.

That motherfucker happens to be your older brother.  He’s standing beneath the black awning with his arms folded across his chest, leaning back on the brick beside the glass door like he owns the place.  Well, technically, he does.

“Sup little bro?  ‘Bout time you showed up tonight,” he drawls, grabbing you by the arm when you’re close enough and pulling you inside. He’s wearing his favorite orange hat, the collar of his white shirt popped for ultra douchiness.

He quickly ushers you through the bar, steering you around tables where patrons are lounging at high-top tables and shooting pool in the corner.    Everywhere you lay your eyes, your co-workers are all giving you pitying looks.  Latula’s eyes follow you from behind the bar, looking like she wants to pull you into a tight hug, but she wouldn’t dare get in Bro’s way.  Not when he’s on a mission.  Porrim actually does reach out and pat your shoulder sympathetically when you walk past a table she’s serving.  Kankri looks like he wants to say something to you, but thankfully Bro continues to push you along.

You wonder why your co-workers are acting this way.  At first you think it’s because they know it must suck to have Bro as your bro.  But then you remember Roxy.  You swallow away the lump in your throat.

Bro ushers you through the lounge, where the usual patrons are already gathered in cozy groups of couches, sipping whatever cocktails Latula made for them.  You catch one of them making a disgusted looking face after taking a sip.  Kankri must have made that one.

Once you’re past the lounge, you make your way past a wooden door labeled “employees only” and hit a nondescript hallway in the back, passing by tiny office rooms where your less social co-workers sit working mostly in silence.  Even Karkat’s eyebrows twinge a bit in pity as you pass by his office.

At the end of the hallway is the largest office.  Bro pushes you in.

“Have a seat,” he says, letting you go once you’re inside.  He shuts the door ominously behind you.

You sit on his worn-in brown suede couch, and you quickly find a cup full of something in your hands.  “What is this?”

“Breakfast,” Bro replies, standing right in front of you as he leans back against his desk, which is stacked with papers as usual.  Next to him is a gold plated sign with his name in all caps: “BRO STRIDER.”  Bro likes to imagine himself as a hard-boiled sleuth from time to time, so you got him this sign a few decades ago for the perfect ironies.  You’re sure that he has a real first name, but nobody ever calls him that.  To everyone, including you, he will always be Bro.  He’s the one who started this shindig long ago, and he’s the one that keeps it going.  Hunt the evil demons of Derse and put them back in their graves.

It’s a fine line, of course, since technically most of the people working for Bro could be classified as some sort of demon.  Bro is included.  So are you and your younger brother Dave.  But you all know where to draw the line.  Others of your kind either never learned where the line was or never cared.  They’re the ones giving you all a bad name, terrorizing humanity and making civilizations rise and fall.  They’re the ones that you hunt every night.

Bro tilts his head in a way that tells you he’s getting impatient.  Oh right, he gave you “breakfast.”  You gaze doubtfully into the dark liquid in the cup he’s given you.  Bro has a habit of feeding you things you’d rather not eat.  All in the pretense of making you stronger.  You suppose that maybe it’s helped?  You’re not really sure if it does.  What you’re sure of is that he gets a kick out of your misery every time.

You hazard a sip of the dark liquid and sigh in relief.  It’s just coffee.

Bro snorts, “what, did you think I was going to feed you Yeti blood or something?”

You level a glare at him through your shades.

He smirks at you and admits, “yeah, it’s in the fridge.  But I figured tonight you could use a little pick-me-up.”

His statement knocks the wind out of you more than any strife ever could. 

Roxy.  He’s talking about Roxy. 

The coffee cup trembles in your hands, and Bro is quick to snatch it back before any damage can be done to the rug on the floor.  He kneels down, eye level to you and says, “hey, look at me.” 

You don’t.

“Look at me,” he insists again, this time a little bit louder.  To emphasize his point, Bro slowly removes his shades.

You sigh like the angst-filled teenager you feel like right now and grudgingly draw your gaze up into his bright amber eyes.  “What?”

“You know I’d give you a day off if I could.  Hell, I’d give you a decade off.  But you’re our best man.  Dave is getting pretty good, but you’re still our best,” he reasons, which sounds so strange coming from Bro.  Usually he’s much more direct and harsh, but today he seems a little—softer.  A bit more considerate.

You hate it.  “I know.  I know but I fucking hate it!  I’ll keep working, but nobody can take Roxy’s place.  Nobody.”

“Dirk, you need someone with you now more than ever,” Bro continues, completely unfazed by your little outburst. “I’m giving you a partner and that’s final.”

“It’s not fair!” you growl in a very uncharacteristic way.  You can’t help it, your Strider mask is strained.  Roxy’s dead.  Everything you cared about, gone.

“No it’s not. And stop thinking that way, it’s not true,” Bro admonishes, dipping into your thoughts in that annoying way of his.  He grasps your hand, squeezing lightly.  “You’re a Strider.  We look out for each other.  I’m giving you a partner because I care about you and don’t want to find you dusted on the sidewalk come morning.  Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true.”

You hadn’t realized you were glaring at him, but you were.  Stupid Bro with his stupid telepathy and stupid always being right.

“That’s the spirit,” he says, releasing your hand and slipping his shades back on.  He hands your coffee back to you and gestures towards the door.  “Your new partner’s just outside the building, whenever you’re ready to meet him.  He’s got your assignment.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Greet your new partner**

You hate this guy already.  He’s leaning against the brick wall waiting for you to exit the building and whistling— _whistling_ like he doesn’t have a care in the world.  He probably doesn’t.  He can’t possibly know what you’re feeling right now.  You can just tell he’s going to be the shittiest of shitty partners.

When he notices you walk through the door, he pushes off the wall with a black converse shoe and comes to you, a big doofy grin on his face.  He has an extra spring in his step and that happy-go-lucky attitude that’s just a _mockery_ of your Roxy.

His dark hair is wild and untamed, sticking up every which direction, and though he wears those poindexter rectangular glasses, you doubt the vivid jungle green eyes behind the thick lenses actually need them.  He’s gallivanting up to you in this long green sleuth-like jacket and khaki short-shorts that are just too sinfully short.  Beneath the jacket he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt with some green monster skull silk-screened on.  Considering what he’s here to do, you would normally give him a point for the ironies, but he’s here to replace Roxy.  The most you give him is a jerk of the head and a cold stare that you know he can’t see from behind your sunglasses.

Despite your attempts to ward him away with your frigid demeanor, he seems surprisingly chipper.  “Ah!  Why hello, old chap!  Delightful to meet your acquaintance!”

When you don’t say anything, he sticks out his hand and says proudly, “My name is Jake English!  And you are—?”

You don’t bother taking his hand.  “You know who I am.  Don’t pretend,” you say, sounding a bit more aloof than usual.  Though you don’t have Bro’s kick-ass telepathic powers (he’s got a couple centuries on you) this guy _must_ know who you are.

You’re right.  His smile only falters a little as he withdraws his hand and instead scratches the back of his head with it awkwardly.  “Ah, my apologies, old bean!  Your brother did mention that your name was Dirk Strider, but I thought it only polite to introduce myself properly!”

“Forget the manners.  Forget all of this, actually,” you tell him.  “I don’t know what Bro told you, but he’s full of shit.  I don’t need a babysitter tonight.  I’m fine on my own.”

“Your ah— _Bro_ didn’t mention much to me, in fact!” Jake says, sounding apologetic.  He averts his eyes sheepishly to the ground before reeling them back up to you.  “And I assure you, I would make a terrible babysitter, my good fellow!”

“Why do you keep saying those ridiculous phrases?”  You ask, beginning to grow annoyed with his manner of speech.  God you hate this guy.  “What _are_ you? Did you literally just wake up from the 1800s?”

“My apologies again!  It seems our vernacular is not quite in synch,” he explains. “Where I’m from, we typically don’t address people by their first names.”

“No?  Well, lucky for you, I’ve got two names,” you inform him snottily.

It takes him a moment, but he brightens again when he realizes what you meant.  “Oh!  Of course, _Strider_!”

“There you go.  And you’re dismissed now, English, I don’t need any help,” you tell him curtly. You know you’re being a little bitch, but you don’t care.  You _really_ don’t want to deal with this guy right now.

Jake waves a piece of paper with Bro’s handwriting scrawled all over it.  “Have you seen the assignment?  I get the feeling you might want a little help on this one.”

You snatch the paper from him, decipher your Bro’s godawful handwriting, and sigh.  “Fine.  Just this one mission, and then we’re done.”

“Shall I look up the bus schedule?  I’m certain I have enough spare change—” he begins, digging into his pocket.

Before he can finish, you’ve already got your keys in your hand, jingling them in front of him.  “Hell no.  This is my city, I drive.”

Despite the dis, the grin practically splits his face in two when he sees your keys.  He winks, points his finger at you like a gun, and pretends to fire. “Shotgun!”

Shotgun was Roxy’s seat, but you bite your tongue as you watch him prance ahead of you.  “How do know—” you begin.

This time it’s his turn to cut you off.  With a knowing look, he turns back to you and flashes you an award-winning grin. “I’ll find it.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Follow Jake to your ride** 

Oh you follow all right.  And your eyes are glued to that round butt in those far too short shorts the entire time.  You hate Jake English.  Instinctively and intellectually, you hate him.

But he does have a nice ass.

…wait, he does?

From behind your shades, you inconspicuously check out his plush rump as it sways gently back and forth.  Every step accentuates those curves.  Those tight fitting short shorts leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, other than how nice it would feel to slide your hand beneath them and squeeze that plump bottom.

Why yes, Jake does have a nice ass.  You would know because nice asses just happen to be your thing.

You are so fucked.

Somehow he does manage to find your ride where you’d parked it a little ways down the street.  He jumps into the passenger seat of your Jeep Wrangler before you even get there.  You keep it door-less and roof-less for extra irony.  Yeah, you could buy a fucking hummer, BMW, Viper whatever if you wanted it.  Better yet, you could build it yourself.  But you’ve always thought that people who went for those rides were compensating for something.

You’ve got nothing to compensate for. You’re Dirk Motherfucking Strider.  You’ll drive a door-less and roof-less vehicle if you want to just because you can.

You hop in, start your baby up, and zip down the road.

There’s a bit of a hand-slapping war as you both switch between radio stations.  Jake insists on some godawful country station while you’d much prefer the deep pounding bass of club music.  Eventually, after hearing one too many songs about trailers, pontoons, dogs, cats, and momma’s, you shut the radio off.

“I say, Strider, it’s quite a long ride,” Jake says in a way that you just _know_ he’s laughing at you.  God you can’t stand him.  “You’re certain you don’t want to listen to anything?”

Nothing could be farther from the truth.  Music is your life.  Next to your swords and robotics, your sick-nasty beats are all you’ve got.  Which reminds you, you do have a CD or two lying around.  You don’t ask him if he wants to listen to it.  Instead, you reach behind you, feeling the floorboard underneath your seat while you keep your eyes on the road.  Eventually, your fingers find what you’re looking for, and you pry out a CD full of mixes you made a month or so ago.

“We’re listening to this,” you tell him.  It’s final, and when you hazard a glance over at him, you can tell that he’s willing to give whatever’s on your CD a shot.

A few seconds go by once you pop it in, and for a moment, you hold your breath, hoping that the floor of your Jeep hasn’t scratched your CD up beyond playability.

It hasn’t.  Slowly, a deep thrumming bass shakes the framework of your ride.  You can only grin as you drive down the deserted city streets, the bass kicking louder and louder until you swear the whole city block must be vibrating with it.

Jake sits in awe as your mixes fill the air.  Not once does he reach for the radio.

* * *

  

**Dirk == > Stare at those short shorts**

Ok.  It’s not like you have a soul or anything.  You’ll stare all day if you want to.  But as Jake turns around to ask you something, you quickly avert your gaze up.  Even though he can’t see where your eyes are looking from behind your sunglasses, you won’t be caught staring.  Striders are never caught staring.

“I say, you have quite the driving moves!  We made record time, Strider!” He says, walking with you to the abandoned hospital on the South Side of the City. 

The walls are lined with graffiti, and the chain linked fence that supposedly separates the building from the public is broken in more places than one.  The City never gave a shit about the place, and when it fell into disrepair, rather than put the money into cleaning the hospital up, they shut it down.  Even though the asbestos particles shower the air every time a part of the dilapidated building breaks down, they never bothered to level the place.

As a result, it’s become a rife hideout for gangs, addicts, homeless, and your least favorite—demons.  It’s a verifiable Candy-land for them.  Nobody will miss their victims.  Quite honestly, you won’t either, but you know these types of demons.  If you don’t stop them now, then once they’re strong enough, they’ll leave the safe confines of the old hospital and move on to wreak havoc on the rest of the City.

Bro claims that he made this mistake once long ago.  He has yet to make it again.

You hate this place.  Though the scum of society has seen your face around here enough to leave you alone, it’s dangerous.  The building contains more than one gateway from Derse, and it seems every time you close one, another three open.  To close them all tonight you’ll need Jake.  You hope he’s as reliable as Bro seems to think he is.

“English, there’s something else you need to know about this place,” you tell him as you both slip through holes in the fence.  “It was built a long time ago.  There are some seedy characters living here, but there are innocents too.  If you’re not careful with those guns, you could level the place.”

Jake pats his pistols and flashes you the most charming grin.  “Who do you think I am, Strider?”

“I don’t know.  I just met you,” you reply honestly.

“I’m the best shot in the world,” he assures you, pointing both his fingers at you and pretending to shoot.  “I never miss.”

“Good,” you mutter, finally standing next to one of the rusty doors, hanging open just a few inches.  “You ready?”

“Born ready,” he says.  When you glance back at him, you see that his eyes are full of a passionate energy that tells you, yes, he really meant that.  And he probably watches far too many bad action movies.  You’ll have to pester him about that later.

Slowly, you creak open the door and slip inside.

Instantly, you’re accosted with webs.  More webs than you think you’ve ever seen in this place.  You inwardly groan.  Serket has outdone herself this time.  You’ll have to watch your step carefully.

You and Jake manage to make your way through the webs, locating Derse portals in the broiler room and in a janitorial closet without any incident.  With the right incantations you close the portals and move along.

“This isn’t right,” you mutter quietly.  “Usually the place is crawling with goons, so _where are they?_ ”

Jake glances around, sniffing lightly as you walk down another abandoned hallway. Ok, that was a little weird, but whatever.  His ass makes up for it.  “I think they’re all in one location.  Down there,” he replies, indicating toward a hallway.

“Oh great,” you sigh.  “My favorite place.” 

A minute later you find yourself in front of your (least) favorite place in the building. 

The psych ward.

The doors were once painted with a vibrant blue that is now chipped and rusting through.  Several gangs have marked the doors with their graffiti, but you don’t care about that at all right now.  The thick mesh of spiderwebs covering the door has you far more concerned.

You turn to Jake before you enter, filling him in on just who is inside.  “Vriska Serket is in there.  She’s the spider queen with a mean taste for flesh.  Hope you’re not easily disgusted, because you’re probably going to see some pretty heavy stuff inside.”

“No sir.  It will take far more than a spider to get to this old fellow!” Jake announces happily, pointing to himself with his thumb.

“Good,” you respond.  “She’ll have a lot of goons, but they’ll follow her down.  When she goes, they go too.  Try not to let too many of them stick to you or they’ll slow you down.”

“Strider,” Jake says, his voice sounding a bit impatient.  “I’ve done my homework on Miss Serket.  Can we get this shamboozle started?”

You grin.  You just might be starting to like him.  “In three.  3, 2, 1—”

You both kick through the doors at the same time.  Inside is a den of nightmares.  Spiderwebs fill every part of the room, to the point where you’re nearly choking on them in the air.  Mangled forms of Vriska’s victims hang from the ceilings and walls, dripping innards and blood in messy pools all over the floor. 

Her spider goons are everywhere, dangling from webs in the air, crawling on the floor.  Twisted nightmares with sharp spindly legs and the faces of human babies.  They’re all Vriska’s babies, and she adores them.

They disgust you.  An instant after you’re inside, you’ve pulled your katana from its sheath, slicing through two of the creatures in one sweep.  They shriek horrible high pitched screams, curling in on themselves as they expire.

Jake is firing his pistols loudly beside you, and true to his word, he doesn’t miss once.  Each kill is clean through the head, the bullet lodging firmly into the spider’s body where it can do no harm.  You would take a moment to be impressed with that, but you don’t have a moment.  Every second you are purely _alive_ , flash stepping from one part of the room to the next, swiping the spiders down from their nests and ending them.  You count five open Derse rifts in the room before you flash step back to Jake.

“Cover me,” you command lowly.  “I’m closing these rifts.”

Before you can move, something huge crashes down from the ceiling in front of you.  The spider’s body is mammoth, easily five times your size.  The twisted torso of a fully grown female protrudes from where the spider’s head should be, her clawed hands on her hips.  Vriska Serket’s mess of dark blue hair covers the bad eye you gave her years ago, the first time you killed her, as she stares creepily down at you.  “You’re going to do what now, Diiiiiiiirk Striiiiiiiider?”

“I’m closing these rifts,” you repeat calmly, though you know she heard you the first time.  “And I’m sending you back to Derse.”

Vriska cackles in delight, pointing a clawed finger at you.  “iiiiiiii’d like to see you try,” she says coyly.  Then her eye widens and she screams, “GET THEM!”

Instantly all the horrible spider baby abominations are upon you, accosting both you and Jake faster than you can kill them.  Vriska must have hidden here for quite some time to build a nest this large.  Though you swipe at them, killing several with every move, they’re all over your arms and legs, crawling down your back and into your hair.  Jake seems to be faring no better than you, and Vriska’s cackles fill the air.

Suddenly, there’s an eruption of flames besides you.  You turn your head just in time to see Jake posed like Rambo with a large flamethrower-looking gun in his hands.  You’re not sure where he got that from, but he’s incinerating all those Derse-spawn with it so you don’t care.  “Strider!”  he shouts.  “I’ve got this!  You handle the rifts!”

You nod at him as best you can from beneath all the spiders and flash step away, detaching most of the spiders from you in the flurry of speed.  You circle the room quickly and return to where Jake is poised in front of the first rift.  It only takes a few seconds for you to close the rift and then you’re moving on.  One by one you close the rifts, rushing into abandoned room after abandoned room until only the largest one is left.

Of course, Vriska is guarding that one, her gigantic body hanging menacingly on a well-built web above it.  Jake’s flames only seem to incense her fury further, and she swipes at you with long spindly claws, nearly catching you a couple times.  There’s no way you can get close enough to close the rift beneath her.

You know what Roxy would do.  She would taunt Vriska and infuriate her.  She would make the horrible spider bitch spin until she was dizzy and strike when she was least expecting it.  She’d find a way to get Vriska to kill herself.  If Roxy were here, you’d be halfway home by now.

But Roxy isn’t here.  She’s never coming back, and you’re going to have to deal with it.  You’ll have to figure out another way to get Vriska and—

The loud sound of a shotgun going off next to your ear draws you away from your angst filled thoughts.  Jake has discarded his flamethrower, the spider creatures all dead around you, and he’s chosen a new weapon.  It was a good shot, but Vriska has some sort of demonic forcefield around her now.  Seems like she learned from the last time.  The time you took her eye.

Jake isn’t about to be deterred.  In fact, he seems only more energetic as he reloads.  He doesn’t even seem to aim before he shoots again.

Nothing happens.

“I thought you never miss?” You comment, your douchiness coming out despite the fact that you’ve been pretty much worthlessly wallowing in your remorse the last couple minutes while Jake does all the work.

“I don’t,” he says confidently, looking at something above.

You follow his gaze and see that Vriska’s web is quickly coming undone around her.  The stringy threads unlock from those attached to the walls, circling around the giant spider in the middle again and again.  With every circle, Vriska drops lower and lower.  By the time she realizes what is happening, she’s screaming as she tries in vain to claw at her web and pull herself up.  Little does she realize that in doing so she’s only dislodging the web faster, and in one final screech, she falls into the rift below.

You’re quick to seal that motherfucker off, cleansing the world of Vriska Serket once again.

“It’s a shame,” Jake comments offhandedly, stashing away his weapons into holsters that you realize had been on him the whole time.  “I quite like spiders, and I think Vriska would be swell company if she were just a tad less evil.”

“That makes one of us,” you reply, kicking a dead spider aside as you make your way out of this hellish hospital ward.

Jake follows you out wordlessly.  It isn’t until you reach the Jeep that he finally asks, “I say, Strider, do you always take lengthy breaks in the middle of a duel?”

“No,” you respond, not knowing what else to say.  In truth, you’re a little embarrassed of your actions, or rather, lack of actions.  Roxy’s death shouldn’t have hit you so hard.  You told your Bro it hadn’t, and a Strider always keeps his word.

“Right, jolly good,” he says, a hint of mischief in his eyes.  “Because I would hate to have to go easy on you.”

“Wha—” is all you can manage to say before Jake tackles you to the ground.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Strife**

The City’s South Side is not really your ideal setting for a strife, but Jake apparently doesn’t seem to care.  He’s fighting you with just his fists, and you get the feeling it wouldn’t be sporting if you fought with anything besides yours. 

Jake is a lot stronger than he looks, and since you weren’t expecting the attack, it isn’t long before he has you pinned to the ground, grinning wolfishly down at you.  “That’s one point for Team English!  Maybe next time you can show me some of that legendary Strider skill.”  He says, letting you up with a wink.

You want to grumble about how that wasn’t fair, but he did give you some warning, which is more than Bro ever does.  Whatever, you just want to get out of this place.  You shrug your shoulders, readjusting your plain black t-shirt, and get back in the Jeep.

When you get back to the lounge, Bro shakes his head at you.  He places his pen down on the desk where he was working.  Even though he’s largely given up fighting the good fight and moved to pencil-pushing for years now, seeing him sitting behind a desk filled with papers still looks strange to you.  You really think he belongs on the battlefield with a katana in his hand.  No doubt centuries ago he fought in some epic war with his katana alone.  You think that if he were with you tonight, like the old times, you wouldn’t have had any trouble.

Bro doesn’t hesitate to flatly say, “good thing _Jake_ was there.”  He purposely emphasizes Jake’s name, making it clear to you that he really means to say “ _you’re fucking lucky I gave you a partner._ ”

Stupid mind-readers.

“I’d have been fine,” you insist.

Bro snorts, “yeah, if by fine you mean filleted open by one Vriska Serket.”  He shakes his head, bowing his head in thought for a moment before he says, “I’m sending you home for the night.”

“What?!” You exclaim.  “Then what was all that bullshit earlier about needing me, huh?”

“You took out Vriska, the toughest mark of the night.  Dave and the others can handle the rest,” Bro explains calmly.  It takes him another moment before he speaks again.  It’s a sort of hesitation that makes you extremely wary of what he’s about to say next.  “Jake’s coming home with you.”

“Fuck no!” you exclaim again, on the verge of losing your Strider cool.  Bro angles his head at you in a warning sort of way, and you realize what you’re doing, forcing yourself to calm back down.  You try again, this time in a much more level tone.  “Nah Bro, I can handle myself.  I don’t need Jake babysitting me.  Besides, he said he’s a terrible babysitter.”

“I am,” Jake agrees.

“Shut it, English,” Bro snaps at him, then looks back at you.  “You’ll take Jake back with you because he doesn’t have anywhere else to stay right now.  He’s come a long way on short notice.  Until we get a more permanent living situation figured out for him, the least you can do is show him some fucking hospitality for saving your life.”

Bro has a point.  He always does.  But that doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

You don’t grace him with another word before turning to leave.  Bro knows that you’ve resigned yourself to your fate. 

Jake English is coming home with you tonight, bringing with him his fine ass and horrible taste in movies.

You get the feeling this is the beginning of something both amazing and terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LateNiteSlacker's Notes:
> 
> Thanks for reading my first Homestuck fic! The supernatural elements are inspired by this story's publish date: Halloween! There will be lots of action, adventure, and romance on this zany ride. The rating may change to reflect some graphic scenes in later chapters. Hope that you stick with it and enjoy!


	2. A Strider's Weakness

**  
**

**Dirk == > Show Jake around your place**

You twist the key in the door to your apartment and shove the door hard with your shoulder to get it to open.  The smell of stale cigarette smoke from the apartment below greets you, and you don’t bother kicking off your shoes before walking in.  Jake follows on your heels like a puppy dog, his eyes wide as he glances around.  Inside is your wonderland of smuppets, robotics, empty orange soda cans, and shitty _shitty_ swords.  You blame Dave for the latter.  When he moved out, he never bothered to take his shitty collection with him, and you never bothered to clean them up.  Whatever, you’ll sneak them into his refrigerator sometime when he’s least expecting it.

Lazily, you gesture with a single wave, “home sweet home.  It’s not much, but it’s all I need.”

Jake’s eyes are wide, and his gaze flitters around the room from one thing to the next in a matter of seconds. It’s almost enough to make your head spin.  He shifts his green duffle bag around on his shoulder as he looks around, finally silent for once.  The entire ride home he talked your ear off about one movie or another, and your guess was right.  He has absolutely horrible taste in movies.  You’ll have to change that.

You sweep aside a few smuppets and flop down on the second-hand futon in your living room, flipping on the TV with a lovably worn-in remote.  “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left.  My room’s on the end, but there’s a spare on the right you can use.”

“Right,” he says, making his way down the hall.  A moment later, his head pokes out from the hallway. “Oh, and thanks Strider!  Letting me stay here and all.  It’s all quite dandy of you!”

You give him an obligatory nod before he turns and heads back down the hallway.  What an odd fellow.  You find yourself grinning at the thought of his peculiar mannerisms while you surf the channels, as usual finding nothing very interesting on.  You’d turn it off, but it’s so early that you’re not ready to sleep yet.  You need something else to kill the time.

As you deliberate what to do, the sound of Jake’s light humming reaches your ears.  He must be in the shower.  He hums in the shower?  How cute.

Then, you realize exactly _what_ he’s humming.  Ever so slightly, a frown ceases your lips and your eyes narrow a bit in disapproval.  He’s humming the Top Gun theme, and you just have to shake your head.  No no no.  He’s got to see some real cinema.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Introduce Jake to real cinema**

Ten minutes later, Jake is sitting next to you on the futon, eating the remnants of your leftover Chinese takeout from yesterday with a plastic fork.  For you, it’s ramen noodles, which always seem to hit the spot when you’re too lazy to make anything else or order a pizza 

Yes, you can eat.  What do you think you are, a vampire?  No, you’ll not be lumped with them.

You turn to Jake after that odd thought about yourself and ask, “are you ready for a masterpiece in cinema?”

The answer is it doesn’t matter if he’s ready or not.  You’ve already pressed the play button.  But he grins anyway and says, “bring it on, Strider!”

The theme music begins to play, and Jake is already on the edge of his seat, slowly slurping a chow mein noodle.  It’s difficult for you to peel your eyes off him for some reason, but you do, and none too soon.  The movie’s finally revealed.

Commando.  Starring Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The ironies couldn’t get any better.  Back when you actually had time to chill with Dave and Bro, the three of you would sit through Arnold marathons, dubbing over parts and cracking jokes the whole way.  It was fun.  And though you do make a few comments through the movie, the way Jake’s eyes are glued to the screen slows your usual banter.

He actually likes it.  Really likes it.  And not in the ironic way either.  You’re starting to wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into having Jake English as a roommate.

When the movie ends, Jake practically whoops with glee.  “Strider!  That was fantastic!  Tell me you have more of these _Arnold_ films!”

You do.  Through all the years, you and your bros have collected them all.  Even the shitty ones like Twins and Junior. 

Jake happily sits with you through Predator and Total Recall before you’re finally starting to feel the stress of the day wearing on you.  As a Strider, you would never admit it, but Roxy’s death has hit you much harder than you would like.  And after the close scrape with Vriska, you’re ready to hit the sack.

A glance over at Jake’s drooping eyelids tells you that he’s feeling about the same way.  He notices you staring and grins sheepishly.  His two front teeth are a little bigger than the rest, and they peek out when he smiles in what you can only describe as an adorable way.

…wait, adorable?  Fuuuuuuuck.

“Sorry, Strider!  It seems the old noggin isn’t what it used to be!”  Jake apologizes between a yawn.  “All these movies are quite fine, but I’m afraid that plane trip right knocked me on my bottom!”

You want to make a comment about his bottom.  You don’t.

“S’fine,” you say, standing when he stands, absently flicking off the TV.  “Knowing Bro, he has an action packed day planned for us tomorrow.  You’ll need your sleep.”

“Oh I hope so!  That’s precisely why I transferred here!” Jake says enthusiastically.  Before he closes the door to his room, he says, “goodnight Strider.  Sleep well.”

“Yeah you too,” you echo, closing your door and falling into bed.  Seconds later, you’re asleep 

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Let Jake wake you up** 

What?  No.  Why would you do that? 

You roll over, smelling something unusual in the house.  Something you’ve only smelled the few times Roxy slept over.

Breakfast.

Your feet carry you to the bathroom first where you make sure you’re halfway presentable (you’re a Strider damnit and you’ve _always_ got to look your best) before trundling groggily into your kitchen.  What greets you just might be the most beautiful sight you’ve seen in a while.

Pancakes.  Piles and piles of pancakes.  If you had to guess, you’d say Jake must have been at this for at least an hour or two already.  There are chocolate chip pancakes, blueberry pancakes, strawberry, banana, and is that _peanut butter?_   Yes, you think so.

Jake smiles at you when you flop into one of your kitchen chairs, just staring at the piles of deliciousness all around you.  “I do say, Strider, your kitchen needed a little bit of work.  I noticed last night that all you seem to carry in your refrigerator is orange soda.  I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty to hit the local market this morning and stock up!”

“Not one fucking bit,” you agree. 

Market.  Who says fucking market?  Jake English says market.  Despite your hatred of his lingo yesterday, you’re finding that it doesn’t seem to bother you today.  The fact that he made you breakfast probably has something to do with it.

Jake notices you staring and laughs.  “Well don’t just gawk at them!  Dig in!”

You do.  Jake already has paper plates set out for you, and you waste no time grabbing one and inhaling what’s in front of you.  You hadn’t realized how ravenous you were, but you guess it makes sense.  After all, you only had coffee and ramen yesterday.

Jake finishes flipping the last of his pancakes and sits with you, eating his food cleanly with a green plastic fork and knife.  Did you not have any silverware in your kitchen? You seem to think you do, but maybe it’s all dirty?

Whatever. You don’t care.  Pancakes now.

“Jake, this idea was the best idea,” you inform him between large bites.

“Good!  You’ll need your energy,” he says, tilting his head and grinning in a way that makes you suspicious.  “I hear we have quite a day ahead of us.”

“Who did you hear that from?” you question, wondering why Bro hadn’t bothered to tell you anything.

“Only from the coolest sexiest Strider on the face of this planet.”

You know that voice.  Wordlessly, you raise your fist in the air. 

Dave meets it with a fist bump then slides into a seat at the table next to you. 

“Long time no see, lil’ bro,” you say, offering Dave a paper plate that somehow got stuck under yours.  “We’re working together today?”

Dave accepts the plate, selects one of each type of pancake, stacks them on top of each other, and digs into them all together.  “Yep, all four of us.”

“John’s here too?”  You question, looking around for his signature little bright ball of blue.

It’s then that you notice one of Dave’s shirt pockets squirming and spasming.  You hadn’t bothered to listen harder, but now that you do, you can hear a tiny voice exclaiming, “ _Dave!  This is so NOT funny!  I want pancakes too damn it!  Don’t make me burn a hole in your shirt!  I’ll do it, I swear. I’ll do it twenty times.”_

“He sounds pretty pissed,” you comment, accepting a cup of coffee when Jake offers it to you.  When did he even make that?  Sneaky bastard.

The corner of Dave’s lips curl ever so slightly, and you know that he’s _highly_ amused.  Slowly, almost as if he’s enjoying taking his time, he unzips the pocket, murmuring, “you gonna say shit about my shoes again?”

“ _No!  Fuck your shoes!  Like I even care about your stinky twink-ass kicks!_ ”

Tiny hands slap on top of Dave’s index finger, pushing the zipper open faster.  As soon as he can, John squirms out of the small opening in Dave’s pocket and flops onto his hands and knees on the tabletop, coughing up little particles of lint.  “Dude, don’t you ever *hack hack* do that again, or I *wheeze* _swear_ I will wreck _all your shirts!_ ”

Dave actually does smirk at this, commenting, “of course, who wouldn’t want to see this primo slab of meat without a shirt?”

John is tiny, smaller than your hand.  Despite that, he stands proudly at his full four inches of height, his light blue pixie wings fluttering as he shakes an enraged fist at Dave.  Like Roxy, John chooses not to dress in the typical pixie garb.  He’s fond of the color blue, and he wears what looks like really comfy blue pajamas, complete with a little blue hood so he can curl up and fall asleep anywhere he chooses.  Even you’ve gotta admit it was cute the few times you caught him sleeping on Dave’s chest as the three of you and Roxy all crammed onto your futon to watch crappy action flicks.

You are Dirk Strider, and nothing gets by you.  You know your little bro’s in love, even if he has yet to say it. Maybe it’s because they haven’t been able to take their relationship to any level at all, so to speak.  Unlike Roxy, John is much younger, and he still hasn’t learned to change his height at will.  You haven’t asked, but you know it’s been a source of frustration for both him and Dave.  Literally.  Heh.

But you almost think it’s better this way.  In your line of work, there’s no telling if you will live to see another day.  If Dave were ever to get as close to John as you were to Roxy—

You mentally scold yourself for thinking about it.  No.  You won’t go there. And you don’t want your little bro to ever have to go through the pain you’re feeling right now.

You realize that they’ve been bickering back and forth, while Jake continues to eat his pancakes and watch in amusement.  Before they can continue their little quarrel, you clear your throat, drawing everyone’s attention to you.  “Dave, you were saying we’ve gotta work together on this one?”

“Yeah, Bro says it’s some demon. Damara Megido?”  Dave says, lilting his statement into a question, as he’s never run into her before. 

You still, a cold chill running down your spine.

Slowly, Dave actually lowers his shades an inch, staring at you with his deep wine-red eyes.  “Dude, did you just _pale_ _even more?_ How is that _even possible?_ ”

“Damara,” you murmur coarsely.  You actually do feel the blood draining from your face.  “I can see why he wants us to work together.”

“Care to fill a bro in?” he asks.

“You were sleeping last time she resurfaced.  It had to be at least a century ago,” you say, resting your coffee on the table, forgotten.  “Damara is crafty, resourceful, and psychotic as hell.”

“And that makes her different from all the other demons we fight how?” Dave asks.

“Damara preys on men with our very weakness,” you say gravely, leveling your gaze at Dave with the utmost seriousness.  “We almost lost Bro that day.”

Nobody says a word.  They’re all waiting for you to continue.

“Bro and I used to be a team.  We were unstoppable.  But after that, after we both almost died, he decided that we shouldn’t be anymore.  That’s why we have teams of misfits like we do now.  If the enemy preys on the weakness of one, then the other can finish the job,” you explain. 

It’s common knowledge, but you feel like now would be a good time to remind everyone, including the newcomer Jake, about why you work the way you do.  You glance briefly over at Jake.  You know he isn’t like you, but you haven’t been able to place exactly what he is yet.  You have no idea what his strengths or weaknesses are.  But you’re not worried.  In due time, you’ll figure it out.

You turn to Dave and continue, “we woke you up shortly after that.  Remember how Bro was really weak those first few months?  Damara is why.”

“Dave, is that true?” John asks quietly.  His brows are furrowed in concern and whatever argument they were having before is completely forgotten.  “Is she really that big of a danger to you?”

“After all that talk of letting me get my beauty rest until all the big bad demons were gone, they couldn’t resist waking this handsome hunk of Strider up early,” Dave admits, his tone far more serious than his playful words. Despite his big talk, you know Dave is scared.

Clearly, John has learned to interpret your little bro too, because he rests a hand on one of Dave’s knuckles.  He reassures him, “don’t worry, I’ll look out for you, Dave.”

You realize that Jake hasn’t said anything in a while, and when you turn to face him, you’re surprised to see that even he looks a little flustered.  “What about you, English?  You gonna be ok?”

“Of-of course!” Jake stammers, suddenly alert.  He flashes a charismatic grin at you as he says, “Damara won’t get the best of me!”

Sensing that there’s more to the story than he’s letting on, you angle your head, gazing closer at him through your shades.  You might not have Bro’s telepathic abilities, but you know how to stare someone down until he spills. 

It takes exactly 2.3 seconds before Jake swallows and continues, “I mean, she does seem to have some sort of—obsession?  With me?  I couldn’t tell you why, but it hasn’t stopped me from kicking her arse back to Derse where it belongs!”

You barely know Jake, and yet his words shake you a bit more than you’d care to admit.  Somehow you get the feeling it takes a lot to crack that cheerful adventurous spirit of his, but you scoff it off saying, “Damara has an interest in all men.  Just be on your guard.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Find that bitch and kill her** 

Yep, that’s exactly what you’re about to do.  Everyone’s piled into your Jeep, and your sick beats are filling the air.  None of you speak during the trip.  Thoughts of Bro’s broken and bleeding form haunt your memories, but you force yourself to shake out of it and actually pay attention to the road.  A glimpse into the rear-view mirror tells you that Dave is lying down across the back seat, trying to give off an air of nonchalance that he clearly isn’t feeling.  John’s curled up on his shoulder, and he’s saying something but you can’t hear it over the roar of the wind and your sweet jams.  Jake is more subdued than you’ve ever seen him.  You half expected him to be blathering on about some film or another, but tonight he’s oddly silent.

You follow your instincts to the Red-Light District.  Drug abusers and seedy groups of people are hanging around the streets, wide awake despite the time of night.  Painted ladies that you’re certain you’ve seen on these streets for years share the corner with girls that can’t be over fourteen.  The whole scene disgusts you.

Once Cronus made some lewd innuendo about you frequenting these streets, and you cracked him so hard that he never made that comment again.  You had informed Cronus that, unlike him, you would never stoop to this level.  You definitely wouldn’t use the damaged women (and men) that sell themselves here.

As you slowly prowl the streets, in search of your mark, Bro calls your cell.  “Sup?” You answer with your typical air of Strider-brand cool.

“ _Hey, lil bro, you doin’ ok?”_   Bro asks.  He sounds a little more concerned than usual.  You’re really starting to get sick of it.

“Right as rain,” you assure him, shifting the phone between your shoulder and neck more comfortably.  “Why?”

“ _I’ve been thinking about it.  I want you to tell Dave to go home.  I’ll send someone else to take his place tonight.”_

“Don’t think he’ll listen, but I’ll pass the word,” you say, leaning back a bit in your seat.  “Hey Dave, feel like going home for the night?”

“Nah man,” Dave waves nonchalantly.  “You already dragged me down to this cesspit of the _city_.  We’re doing this shit, no matter how _shitty_.  We’re deep in this bitch like a shark in the _sea_.  That’s you and me, fightin’ till etern _ity_.”

Dave continues to rap/ramble on, but you ignore him and turn your attention back to Bro.  “He said no,” you relay simply.

“ _Haha, very funny,_ ” Bro says, clearly not amused.  “ _You know what I mean.  Turn around and kick him out of your ride.  Leave him at home._ ”

“And waste another hour of my night?  Don’t think so,” you say.  You’re not really sure why you’re arguing with Bro on this one.  He’s making the right call, and in a moment, he’s bound to tell you what you know already.  There’s a reason you and Dave shouldn’t be on this assignment.

“ _Look I made a mistake giving Damara to both of you, ok?  Is that what you wanted to hear?  I fucked up, but that doesn’t mean you have to too.  Send Dave home,_ ” Bro says, his voice growing a little bit more strained than usual.  You get the feeling that if you were sitting next to him right now and could actually see him, he’d be sweating bullets.  A few veins in his neck are probably puffed out like usual when he’s angry and is trying not to show it.  “ _Dave and you are both weak against Damara.  You saw what she did to me.  I don’t want to lose both of you._ ”

“Well, you should have thought about that a little sooner,” you respond.  Your voice is growing thinner, because you can see the object of your bane clearly down the street now.  Your vision is better than most, including demons of the night like yourself.  You’re not sure why, but you suspect that years of wearing shades have trained your already enhanced eyes to concentrate on what’s important, blocking out the rest.  So it’s not hard for you to find who you’re looking for, even though she’s a mile away.  Unfortunately, the demon you’re looking for is one of the few with better eyesight than you.  If you can see her, no doubt she can see you.

Down past the usual hookers and drug dealers, crack addicts, and homeless winos, there’s a lady in red.  Her black hair is twisted into a bun with curved golden chopsticks. The painted red smile on her lips matches the color of her eye-shadow and her Oriental-flavored crimson dress.  Set deep into her hair are a pair of curling yellow-orange horns.  Though horns are definitely not your thing, something about them is _very_ attractive on her.  So is her dress.  And her coy little smile.  And—

You recognize the beginnings of Damara’s spell and pull yourself out of it with a quick sharp breath.  She sees you struggling from all the way down the block and grins malevolently.  With a single index finger, she beacons you forward and disappears inside one of the buildings.

“Bro, she’s here.  It’s too late now, she’s seen us all,” you rationalize, feeling as though you really shouldn’t be disobeying your Bro’s orders. You know he has your best interests in mind, but you can’t help it.  You know that you and Dave are the best on the force.  It would be murder to send anyone else on this mission.  Besides, you really want to get this bitch back for what she did to Bro.

“ _Dirk!  Don’t go!  Listen, I’ll get some other guys in there and—”_

“Gotta go. Later,” you murmur, ending the call and shoving your phone back into your pocket.

“Bro’s gonna be pissed at you later,” Dave remarks from where he’s still lying in the back.

“If that’s my biggest problem, I’ll be glad,” you answer honestly.  You almost wish you hadn’t, because Dave sits up suddenly, his mouth in a hard line.  John is flittering about more than usual, and even Jake is quietly staring down into his lap at his hands.  You sigh, “look, we’re not gonna die tonight.  So stop having a pity party, all of you.  We just have to look out for each other.”

They don’t say anything as you pull your vehicle to the side of the road, parking close to the building she disappeared into.  You unbuckle yourself and turn back to face all of them.  “Damara’s specialty is sex appeal.  She’s a succubus that’s been around several millennia.  Her psychic abilities are through the roof, and she can control both the living and the dead.”  You turn solemnly to everyone in turn.  “It sounds bad, but really she’s just another demon.  If we have each other’s backs, we’ll be able to take her down.  Dave, no showboating.”

He scoffs, “like I’d ever—”

“You would.  Don’t,” you say, cutting him off.  “Alright.  Are we ready to do this?”

Three solemn nods and you’re ready to go.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Find that bitch and kill her faster!** 

You’re working on it, ok?  Sometimes things just need a little set-up first.

The building Damara Megido disappeared into is, not surprisingly, abandoned.  It looks like this place used to be a den of pleasures, but it’s fallen into disrepair.  Ripped red and gold satin fabric hangs from the ceilings and walls, and half-burned and stained oriental rugs partially cover the grimy cement floors.  The air is oddly filled with the scent of incense, which leaves you with a strange heady feeling.

Realizing that it’s probably just another part of Damara’s magic, you shake your head, ignoring the scent as best you can. 

The front room is lit, but all the others are dark.  You dig back into your memory of the last time you faced Damara.  You don’t think she had any minions in her hideout, just a few ghosts of the past that she used to torment you.  While the ghosts of your dead parents didn’t really do much to you (you barely knew them) they did a number on Bro.  It was easy for Damara to get her claws into him after that.

There is a dilapidated wooden stairway in the center of the room leading up.  The light is on upstairs.  You know this is a set-up.  It always it, but there isn’t much you can do about it.  With a silent jerk of your head, you signal to the others and lead the way up.

The second floor isn’t much better off than the first.  Crimson runners that are dusty and threadbare traverse lengthy hallways that lead to more darkened rooms.  Ahead of you is another staircase, with the light lit above.

You travel up five stories of the building in this manner before you finally hit the top floor.  In front of you is a large set of wooden double doors, ornately painted with cracked swirling gold.  You know what’s behind those doors.

Jake happens to be beside you.  He silently slips his pistols from their holders and nods at you.  You mouth, “ _3, 2, 1_.”

Simultaneously you both kick in the double doors.  The scent of incense washes over you like a powerful tidal wave.  From behind the haze, you can see that Damara is splayed across a giant bed, angling her hips up at you suggestively as she beacons you forward.  Her eyes are narrow lust-filled slits, and when she speaks, you’re not surprised to find that it’s in Japanese.  But thanks to a very (non)-ironic love of Japanese Anime that you and your bros had decades ago, you all learned to speak it fluently.  “ _Come to me…_ ” she croons.

Like you’d go anywhere else.  You have to put this bitch down. 

You’re the first to move.  Brandishing your katana, you jump into the air and drive the blade right through where she was laying on the bed.

Damara tisks besides you murmuring sultrily in Japanese, “ _you want to penetrate me? How lovely.  Why don’t you use your other sword instead?”_   Her hand finds your crotch and gives it a light squeeze.

You slice your katana through the air she was just occupying, but she’s already drifted away, laughing.  Dave comes at her next, but just like you, his blade meets with empty air.  Damara taunts him just like she taunted you, running a finger up the side of his cheek, squeezing his thigh, leaving light little strokes all over his body as he futilely attempts to slice away at her.

John takes a turn next, swinging at her with his gigantic Zillyhoo hammer that he’s somehow magically materialized.  Again, she’s too fast for him, and even when Dave and John try to tag-team her, she still gets the better of them.

She’s just too fast.  Your Strider-speed lets you keep up with her, but that’s about all you can do.  Damara’s millennia of age have only increased her power, and she’s even faster than you remember.  A glance over at Jake tells you that he’s struggling to get a clean shot, squinting through those thick glasses of his.  He keeps refocusing, his lips set in a grim line.  You think you hear him murmur, “blast—!”

She finally leaves Dave and John alone, materializing back on the bed, kicking her heels up almost playfully as she swishes a foot in the air. “ _How exhilarating! I haven’t had this many boys to play with in centuries!  But I can’t steal all the fun.  Why don’t we have a beautiful orgy?_ ”

No sooner does she utter the words when the incense smoke hanging in the air begins to condense.  Slowly, it forms into people of the past, demons that should haunt your nightmares.  Your parents are back, holding their arms out to you, mouthing your name and Dave’s name silently.  It’s a little eerie, but like last time, it does little to affect you.  You barely knew them.

Dave doesn’t even seem to recognize them, he’s more distracted by John, who is freaking out as a whole flock of dead fairies circle around him.  There are a lot more pixies than Striders, so you’re not surprised that so many of John’s friends and family have died in his lifetime. 

You don’t have time to worry about Dave and John, they’ll take care of each other.  You turn quickly to Jake, about to tell him to snap out of it.

But there aren’t any ghosts around Jake.  Instead, Damara is beside him, running her hands along his thigh, licking his cheek, and worshiping his ass in a way that makes your eyes narrow. “ _My Lord…_ ” Damara moans in Japanese.  You wonder if Jake can even understand her.  “ _I’ll be your dirty little cum-slut.  Come, let us fuck beneath the full moon.  You can plunge your dick in my little cunt-hole doggy-style in the hayloft of a barn or fuck my mouth next to the roaring sea-shore.  I’ll do anything for you, my Lord English…_ ”

Damara works her way back around to his front, keeping his hands pinned to his side as she places a full kiss on his lips.  You sense some sinister power being passed between them, foul and green.  Jake’s struggling, but he has yet to fire his pistols.  You wonder what the deal is and if he was being completely honest with you earlier when he said he wouldn’t have any problem kicking her ass.

Before you can contemplate it further, the ghosts of your parents are in front of you again, whispering your name, reaching out for you.  But you suddenly don’t care about them anymore.  If the ghosts of the past are here to haunt you, then there’s one particular ghost you really want to see.

Where is Roxy?

You turn around, searching the room frantically.  You hadn’t realized it, but the room has slowly filled with souls of the dead, all miserably floating around.  You don’t see her anywhere.  She isn’t even amongst the pixie ghosts haunting John.

_Where is Roxy???_

The question is so powerful in your mind that Damara looks over at you, despite still fawning over Jake.  If you were more yourself right now, you would wonder how her psychic abilities compare to Bro’s.  “ _Where is who, now?  Which deceased soul would you like me to use in your torment?_ ”

“Roxy!” You shout after her, wondering why you’re getting so worked up over this.  You never lose your cool like this, but you’re actually starting to panic a little.  Where is she?  She was your best friend.  She should be here.  Where is Roxy?

One of Damara’s dark brows arches elegantly, but she doesn’t respond to you.

It couldn’t piss you off more.  You switch to speaking Japanese, desperate to get the demon’s attention, “ _Damara Megido!  Where the hell is she?!!  Where is Roxy?!!_ ”

You don’t see it when Damara detaches herself from Jake.  You’re so worked up that you only realize she’s moved when she’s right behind you.  Her voice is low and sultry, and you feel her breath on the shell of your ear as she murmurs, “ _Sorry, Dirk.  Roxy isn’t here._ ”

Suddenly your whole torso is on fire.  You gasp, tasting blood in your mouth as you glance down.  Damara’s thin dark claws are speared through your torso, puncturing your lungs, stomach, spleen, intestines… everything feels like it’s on fire.  As she withdraws her claws from you, you fall onto the bed, gasping as you bleed out, leaving a crimson pool on the creamy silk sheets.

You’re vaguely aware of Dave screaming, tackling Damara and doubling his efforts to slice her with his blade.  John is still wigging out over the dead fairies, and where is Jake?  Oh, he’s already by your side, pressing his hands on your wounds.  You’re not sure what he’s trying to do, you’ve got twenty holes in your body where she sunk her claws through you.  You feel your body healing, but it’s not going to be fast enough.  You’ll lose too much blood, and by the time you’re patched up, you’ll be worthless in this fight. 

“Jake, forget me, I’ll heal,” you manage to whisper weakly before you’re overcome with hackling coughs, blood speckling the sheets with every painful heave.  “Help Dave!”  you gasp.

You’ve been keeping an eye on Dave’s fight with Damara, and it doesn’t look pretty.  She already has him pinned to the ground, straddling his torso with her thighs as she pins his wrists down with her clawed hands. “ _Oh look!  A baby Strider.  I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck a baby._ ”

You try to shout at her, to tell her to leave Dave alone, but all that comes out is another blood-wracked cough.

She’s kissing him now.  Kissing the life out of your lil’ bro, but he doesn’t even realize it. You can tell that he’s getting caught in her spell.  The seconds tick by like hours as she plunges her tongue into his mouth, rolling her hips along his cock suggestively.

You’re not sure how much time has gone by, and it scares you.  What the fuck is Jake doing? Why isn’t he helping Dave?  Why do you have to helplessly watch this?

She must have dug her metaphorical claws pretty deeply into him, because when Damara lets him go, Dave doesn’t struggle.  They both have their arms wrapped possessively around each other now.  He’s sucking back greedily, pulling her closer to him.  He’s completely wrapped up in her spell, but you have to wonder if he would keep going anyway, even if he wasn’t.

Because Dave’s stealing the life from her too.

Because Dave’s a STRIDER, just like Bro and just like you.

You know what’s going through his mind even without Bro’s telepathy, because you know what you are.

You’re an incubus.

Watching Dave feed is not something you really care to see, but you’re even less pleased about this tug of war.  Usually his life isn’t on the line.  Usually it’s you telling him to pull back before he kills someone, not the other way around.  This time, you can’t tell who’s winning.

It scares the shit out of you, because you think you know the answer.  You don’t think it’s your lil’ bro.  Damara has a few millennia on Dave, and no doubt she’s just playing with him.

You try to warn him, you try to get Jake to go and help him, but for some reason Jake still isn’t moving.  Weakly, you raise your arm to try and get Damara’s attention back to you, but you’ve lost too much blood.  You can’t move.  You can only watch.

As you feared, suddenly, Dave is thrashing below her.  He’s struggling, but he’s growing weaker and weaker and…

Suddenly a giant bright ball of blue collides with the side of Damara’s head, knocking her off Dave and sending her crashing into the wall.  John is fluttering in the air just above Dave and brandishing his ridiculously bright blue Zillyhoo hammer, which is easily 100 times his size.  You never knew he was capable of the menacing way he growls, “Get _off_ my **_boyfriend_** _!_ ”

While Damara is reeling from the unexpected blow, John is quick to deliver another to her.  And another.  With each crack, you hear her bones snapping, her body breaking into a useless heap of flesh.  He pounds the fucking shit out of her, and you couldn’t be happier that your lil’ bro’s boyfriend is a fairy.

When she’s finally laying in a bleeding heap on the ground, her body twisted in ways that shouldn’t be possible, Jake finally rises to his feet.  Slowly, he walks over to her, cocking the hammer of his pistol and aiming it at her head.

The wicked grin never once leaves Damara’s face.  “ _See you in Hell, my Lord._ ”

Two shots, clean through the brain and the heart, and she’s gone.  Damara’s Megido’s body bursts into dust, leaving a fine powder on the ground.

John flutters a bit in the air and coughs on the particles.  “Ugh, do they always have to _explode?_ ”

Dave wobbles to his feet.  He looks a little weak, but he’s ok.  That’s all you really cared about.  You can relax now.

Jake’s at your side again.  You think he’s saying your name, but you’re not sure.  You think you feel yourself being lifted up in the air as the world fades to black.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so we're clear, this isn't the end of the story! Take that as you will. ;)


	3. For the Sake of Everyone

**  
**

**Jake == > Drive Dirk’s Jeep**

What did you just call this automobile?  You’re not sure how the vehicles work here, or why everyone insists on driving on the wrong side of the road.  And why Dirk doesn’t even have doors or a roof on his vehicle is really beyond you.  No, you’d better leave the driving to Dave.

You’re not sure what happened back there.  You think about it as you hold Dirk’s limp form tightly in the back seat.  He’s lost a lot of blood, and quite frankly you’re worried about him.  You’d best get him back to Bro as quickly as possible.  Dave seems to be doing a fine job of just that, driving at reckless speeds that even Dirk didn’t attempt. 

John’s saying something to Dave, glancing nervously back at you two, but you can’t for the life of you tell what he’s saying.  Passed out Dirk isn’t exactly talkative either, leaving you plenty of time to your own thoughts.  And oh, do they trouble you.

Damara _did_ something to you, and you’re not sure what it was.  When she kissed you it was like she paralyzed you.  You couldn’t _do_ anything.  You moved, but you couldn’t help Dirk.  You couldn’t help Dave.  It wasn’t until John hit her with his giant hammer that whatever it was wore off.  Suddenly you could move again.  You could fight her.  You could end her.

But somehow, despite the blasted demon vanishing into dust, you don’t think she’s really gone.  You get the feeling that Damara Megido is still out there somewhere.  And you would bet your favorite pistols that she’s more than willing to make good on her promise to royally mess you up.

It isn’t long before Dave pulls up to the lounge.  Bro is already outside and reaching into the Jeep before Dave can even turn off the engine.  He pulls Dirk out of your arms and carries him in through a back door, muttering something that sounds like “stupid... so fucking stupid…”

You follow him inside. Dave and John are close behind you.  Bro allows you into his office, laying Dirk down on a worn-in looking brown couch.  You hope this isn’t where the eldest Strider spends most of his nights, or in his case days, but somehow you think it might be.

“Is he going to be ok?”  You ask, wincing as Bro peels the blood soaked shirt off Dirk, reopening some of his closed wounds as he rips away the blood clots.  He frowns, but you think you hear him sigh in relief as Dirk’s wounds begin to close on their own.

“Yeah, he’ll scrape through.  It takes more than Damara’s claws to end a Strider,” Bro responds.  Though his brows furrow ever so slightly above the rim of his shades, he is otherwise completely expressionless.  Curious.  Isn’t he concerned about his brother at all?  “He’s hurt badly though.”

Dave doesn’t need to hear any more before he’s at Bro and Dirk’s side, forcing his way in between you three.  “This was my fault. It was all my fucking fault, let me—”

“No it wasn’t,” Bro snaps quickly, holding Dave back with a hand.  “He didn’t listen to me, and Damara got to him.  That’s not your fault.  And besides,” he pauses, glancing up and down at his youngest brother. “You’re not exactly in tip-top shape yourself, lil’ man.”

“But we’ve gotta do something,” Dave says.  It may be your imagination, but perhaps he’s speaking just a _tad_ quicker than usual.  Other than that, the youngest Strider doesn’t seem phased by his dying brother at all.  You take a second to wonder how the Striders can be so brilliantly calculating yet heartless.

“Yeah,” Bro murmurs.  He pauses for a few moments, and then sighs, “yeah we do.  All of you, get out.”

“I beg your pardon?” You finally speak up.

“You heard me, English. Out,” he responds, pointing to his door.  “Even you, Dave.  Go grab something to eat.  You’re skinny as a rail.”

“Bullshit!  Dirk’s my bro too!  I should be able to—” Dave’s rambling slowly simmers down as Bro levels a glare at him.  Disparagingly, he sighs, “ok.  Fine.  But he’s _really_ hurt, so don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

Bro chuckles.  “I think I know a thing or two about my own brother.  Now out, before I lose my patience.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Wake up**

Nah, sleeping is the shit.  Why would you want to wake up?

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Get slapped**

Oww!  No, stop that.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Get slapped again**

Ok fine!  You’re awake!  Mother-fucking-stop!

You glare blearily around and think you vaguely recognize Bro’s form hovering over you.  Oh shit, you’re in trouble now.

“You awake?  Good,” Bro murmurs, then slaps you one more time. “That was for not listening to me and almost getting yourself _and Dave_ killed.”

Your head is still reeling when you feel him tenderly collect you into a tight hug, pulling you closer to him.

“This is because you’re weak as hell,” he murmurs.  He grips the back of your bloodied hair, his own silent sign that he’s _really_ worried about you. “You’re a fucking cocky asshole, but I guess you learned from the best.  Take my energy.  You need it.”

Your brows furrow ever so slightly.  You’re so weak that if you take enough to heal yourself—

Bro snorts, reading your thoughts.  “No no, you don’t get _that_ much.  Just enough to get you going.  Then there’s some yeti blood in the fridge with your name on it.”

You groan.  How did you know.  Knowing he can read your thoughts, you don’t attempt to talk yet, instead just thinking, “ _thanks Bro._ ”

It’s a weirdly comforting sensation, feeling someone willingly giving you their energy.  You haven’t felt it since you were small, when Bro gave you his back when you were too young to get it yourself.  You smile softly.  You’ve missed Bro’s hugs.

You feel him smirk next to you.  “Don’t get used to it.”

You sigh, sensing him syphoning his energy into you everywhere his skin is touching yours, from his fingertips when they lightly stroke your scalp, his arms that are wrapped around yours, and his cheek that is pressed against your own.  All too soon, he pulls away.  “All right.  That should be enough lil’ man.  Now you have some nummy yeti blood for dessert,” he says, using that tone he used when you were a kid.

Sometimes you _really_ hate his mind-reading.

He comes back with a giant mega-gulp cup, like the kind you would get from the gas station down the street.  With a quick glance, you realize that the cup _is_ from the gas station down the street.  Bro’s even put a colorful orange bendy straw in it for you.  “Drink up.”

You make a face at the cup, but you sit up and accept it.  Much as you hate this disgusting habit, you’ll need it to replace the blood Damara stole from you.

“Aw shit,” Bro curses, thumbing at his now bloodied white dress shirt.  He takes it off and throws it at you.  “You owe me a new shirt, kid.”

“Your fault for not taking it off in the first place,” you mutter, sparing a passing glance at the tags. 

Armani Exchange.  Nice.  You don’t hesitate to slip your arms through the sleeves of Bro’s shirt.  It’s a little big on you, but you don’t care.

You get back to sipping away at the gross blood while Bro throws on another shirt.  You happen to know the guy has a whole closet full of clothes in his office with how often he spends the night here.

After he’s buttoned all but the top two buttons, Bro opens up his office door, and your three partners this evening come pouring in.  John is the first to zoom into your chest, giving your clavicle a big hug.  You’ve always found John’s hugs a little awkward.  What are you supposed to do in return?  You settle for the usual, stroking his back lightly with your index finger.  “Dirk!  I’m so happy you’re ok!  Dave and Jake were really worried too!”

You tilt your head at Dave as he takes a seat next to you.  When you raise your fist, he returns the fist bump and says, “nah man, I knew you’d pull through.”

You swear you hear Bro stifle a snort, but before you can think on it longer, Jake is kneeling beside you, grinning widely.  “Glad you’re all right, Strider!  I’d hate to lose my partner after only a day!  I’m certain that would be a horrible new record.”

“There’ve been worse records,” Bro reassures him from where he’s returned to sorting through the papers on his desk.  “But just to be sure you don’t add to them, you’re all taking the rest of the night off.  Damara was the most challenging target by far.  Karkat and his crew can handle the rest of them.  Dirk, make sure Dave eats something.”

You finish the mega-gulp, which Bro unfortunately is all too happy to refill before you leave.  Disgusting though it may be, you have to admit that you’re feeling better by the time you get to your Jeep, which Dave parked crooked in front of the station in his haste.  You tisk at him, “dude, what’ve I told you?  You’ve gotta respect the ride.”

“I do respect the ride yo, I ain’t makin’ this shit up, no,” Dave starts ramble/rapping again, and you decide to tune him out for the rest of the ride back to your apartment.

Jake has perked back up to his usual self, and he’s back to chattering happily about his favorite films.  “—and who would have thought that Avatar could have been such a brilliant hit?!  Those lush character designs, thrilling plot twists—”

Yep, you’re officially ignoring two people in your ride now.  You chance a glance in the rearview mirror to find that John’s actually giggling at Dave’s rapping.  It looks like he’s trying to rap back, complete with making silly gangster poses, but as usual, you can’t really hear his tiny voice over the rush of the wind.

You settle for listening to Jake continue on about his flagrantly poor taste in movies.  Thankfully it isn’t too long before you’re back at your apartment.

You know that Bro wasn’t talking about left-over pancakes when he told you to feed Dave, but that’s all you’ve got the energy for right now.  Honestly, you’ve seen the kid in much worse shape before, and he seems ecstatic at the chance to eat pancakes again.

It’s early, but you stumble into bed and are quickly asleep.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Eat Jake’s cooking again** 

Ok.  This evening Jake has tasty bacon and eggs waiting for you.  You’re not about to pass that up.

Dave is gone by the time you get up.  He probably left last night.  You do worry a little bit about the kid, but you know he’ll be all right.  Especially after last night.  You’ve seen John fight before, and you knew that he was decent at his job.  But now that you know what he’s truly capable of doing, and just how committed he is to Dave, you know your lil’ bro is safe. 

Idly, you wonder how Dave feels now that John’s “made it official” between the two of them.  At least in front of you.  Must be nice to have someone who cares that much about him.  You used to have that when Roxy was around.

You feel a small twinge of remorse over last night.  You did it again.  You were thinking about Roxy and it blinded you.  But really, where was she?  You’d have thought Damara would pull out all the stops if she could?  Then again, Roxy’s absence helped Damara more than her presence probably would have.

Jake interrupts your self-pitying thoughts, serving you breakfast with a wide smile.  “Good evening, Strider!  I trust you’re feeling better?”  He says gaily as he places a generous portion of bacon, eggs, and (–waffles?  Where the hell did those come from???) –in front of you.

You could really get used to him living here.  Digging into the breakfast, you murmur through a mouthful of food, “felt like shit last night.”  You swallow and comment offhandedly, “I’ll feel better once I get some real food later.”

You realize your mistake as soon as you say it.  A quick glance up at Jake confirms that he’s crestfallen.  Quickly, you wave a hand in front of him.  “Relax English, your breakfasts are the shit.”  You notice that he looks very perplexed and add, “that’s a good thing.  Don’t you ever stop making breakfast.  It might be the first time in history a Strider cries.”

Jake rubs his chin in a thoughtful way, as he begins to put two and two together.  “Wait, if you’re not talking about my breakfasts, then you don’t mean to say—”

You wait patiently to see what he’s going to say.  Besides your mouth is full of waffles.

“—you’re speaking of the _other_ thing you eat?” He asks tentatively.

Slowly, you nod.

“And that would be—” he asks, looking far more uncomfortable than you’d like.  “—blood?  Are you a vampire?”

You almost spit out the waffles, but instead you manage to quickly swallow them and exclaim, “No!”

His eyebrows raise in question.  “That wasn’t blood in the cup Bro gave you yesterday?”

You sigh, “yeah, it was.  But I’m not a vampire.  I’m an incubus.  I only need blood when I’m really weak or when it’s been stolen from me.  It’s complicated.  I actually eat—”  You tilt your head forward, squinting ever so slightly from behind your shades as you think of the best way to explain this to Jake that won’t scare him away. 

Eventually, you realize that there is no good way to say it, and you settle for being blunt as usual.  “Sex energy.”

“I-I beg your pardon?” Jake stammers, flabbergasted.

“I can feed off another’s energy during sex, or any affectionate action,” you explain.  It’s been a while since you had to describe this to anyone, and for some reason, it’s really making you feel hot under the collar.

Maybe it’s because Jake seems to be really troubled by this for some reason.  Damn, you really don’t want to scare him away.  You kind of like having him around.

—wait, you do? 

You blink, realizing it’s true.  Sure, you were staring at his ass a couple nights ago, but you chalked that up to your incubus nature and your love of a plush rump.  But now you think it just might be a little more than that.  You swallow away a lump in your throat as you slowly realize the truth.

You _like_ Jake English.

And it’s only been two days.  Fuck.

And now that he knows your secret, he looks positively frightened.  Shit shit shit shit shit.

Jake clears his throat.  “So you feed off another’s – _affection,_ correct?”

Slowly you nod, not wanting to alarm him.  Like nodding quickly would.  Fuck. Why do you care about this so much?

Hesitantly, he continues, “and your Bro gave you this _affection_ yesterday to heal you?  Does that mean you two…” he trails off uncomfortably, tentatively touching the tips of his two pointer fingers together in the most awkward gesture you’ve seen in decades.

Suddenly you know why he’s acting so strange.  You almost laugh in relief when you realize it. “Dude, Bro hugged me.  We didn’t make out or anything.”

“Oh!” Jake exclaims.  He looks visibly relieved.  “I didn’t realize that was possible!  The others of your kind that I have met in my travels have always done things—a different way?”

You’re starting to wonder just what Jake English has been into in the past, but you don’t question it.  Instead you explain, “it’s usually easier during sex, but Bro has a lot of experience handing energy off to me ‘n Dave.  A hug from him is about as good as fucking two hookers off the street.”

Which you would never do, by the way.  But you do love the way your comment makes Jake blanch a bit.  Maybe he’ll stop talking about this awkward subject and move on.  “And just what do _you_ eat, English?”

Jake flashes his charismatically charming grin and holds up a forkful of waffle.  “Just plain old boring human food, I’m afraid!”  His grin falters a bit as he asks tentatively, “do you get anything out of eating the food I cook?  I mean, you _can_ eat it, right?”

Really?  Did he _really_ just ask that?  You glare at him, holding up a half-eaten piece of bacon and lay on the sarcasm.  “Oh no, I’ve eaten Jake English’s _human food_.  Whatever will I do?”  When he cracks a grin, you toss the piece at him, “yes, I can eat it, you dork.  I can drink the orange soda hogging half my fridge too.”

“But does it do anything for you?” he continues to probe incessantly.  “I mean, I’d hate to force you to eat my cooking if it doesn’t actually help you.”

“One, you’re not forcing anything.  I already told you your breakfasts are the shit.” You sigh at him and respond quickly, “And two, yes, it fills me, but not as well as sex-energy.  I still need that every now and then. Any other awkward questions, English?”

Jake laughs, scratching the back of his head in that adorable way.  “Sorry, Strider!  I’m afraid I’m just terribly curious!  I’ve never had the opportunity to actually speak to an incubus before.   In the past I’ve always just—” Again, he trails off, not wanting to say the rest.

The fact that he doesn’t finish his sentence tells you enough.  “You’ve killed us.  It’s ok, I’ve slain many of us too.  Remember what we did to Damara last night?  We stop the ones that can’t control their urges, that run around fucking anything that walks, leaving behind a trail of bodies.”  You imagine that happening to you and shudder at the thought.  You were lucky Bro was always around to teach you what to do and where to stop.  You did the same for Dave.

“Horribly sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up,” Jake apologizes, his eyes cast down.  Though you know it wasn’t your fault, you instantly feel guilty. 

“Hey, it’s ok, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassure him by throwing another piece of half-eaten bacon at him.  “It’s kind of an unspoken understanding in this business.  We watch out for each other and try to bring ones that have fallen astray back.  But if that isn’t possible, we end them.”

“Oh,” he responds shortly.

“But we’re not all bad,” you reassure him with a small grin.  “I won’t jump your bones unless you want me to.”

What, really?  Where the ever-loving fuck did that come from?

Jake doesn’t seem to think your comment was weird though, and he’s actually giggling back at you now.  “Why thank you Strider!  You’re such a gentleman.”

“Naturally.  I know how to treat a lady,” you say with a smirk.  “Now if you don’t have any other questions, breakfast is getting cold.”

Jake finally catches the hint and lets you eat the rest of your breakfast in peace.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Fight some demons!** 

The demons of Derse must be scared shitless after what you four did to Damara last night.  Bro sends you and Jake out on several missions, but the demons are a cakewalk.  You take out most of the targets in 5 minutes tops. 

The most challenging target is near the riverside of an abandoned factory, where mermen sent by Eridan Ampora have been taking up residence.  The beach is littered with the carcasses of stray cats, rotting and decaying amongst the plastic debris.  You find it both peculiar and repulsive.  You’ve saved this target for last, and seeing what you’re going to have to do, you’re glad that you did.

The water is filled with toxic sludge, refuse from the populace that the corrupt City officials are too cheap to dispose of properly.  It’s a shame. You remember a time when the beach was one of the City’s prized destinations.  You actually got along with Eridan back then, before the waters became so contaminated that they poisoned his mind.  You tried to convince him to move somewhere else, but Eridan wouldn’t have any of that.  You always knew his pride would be the death of him.

It was. 

Not a decade after the city began dumping waste into the waters, Eridan and his mermen began to change.  And not in a good way.  The brilliant luster of their scales corroded into a dark oxidized brown.  Their fins and claws sharpened, taking on the toxicity of the waters and refining it into a deadly poison.  You watched the sad transformation of one of your best friends as he slowly lost his sanity and degraded into nothing more than a vicious reckless predator.  He cursed humanity and vowed to take down the humans who polluted his waters.  Even Cronus, Eridan’s cousin, barely recognized him.  Cronus had taken your advice and relocated with the help of some of your coworkers, namely Kankri.

The first time you killed Eridan, driving your katana through his heart, your stomach had clenched.  You’d choked back an anguished cry over the loss of one of your best childhood friends.  But you knew the dangers of this job.  You knew what you would have to do if one of you went out of line.

When Eridan resurfaced again, not about to be held back in Derse, you had foolishly hoped for the best.  The natural purple luster of his hair had returned, and the corrosion from before had long since fallen away.  But the effect the toxic waters had on his mind was permanent.  You sent him back to Derse as quickly and painlessly as possible.

Suddenly, you hear a loud splash of water, and a giant reverse cyclone surges from the water in front of you.  The sludge flies all over the remnants of the beach, now covered in various colors of plastic wrap.  “Wwell wwell wwell!!!!  Wwhat havve wwe here???”

You frown.  You had hoped to avoid a confrontation, but it looks like that won’t be possible now.  Steadily, you position your katana in front of you and take a fighting stance.

“Oh Dirk!!!  Wwhat’s this all about???  Aren’t you happy to see me???” Eridan grins, his torso appearing out of the water.  He holds his clawed arms out to you.  The light of the moon reflects off his amethyst scales and the tattered remnants of a ridiculously ironic purple waterproof cape you had given him decades ago, back when Eridan had dreamed of being a wizard. Most of the tears in the fabric are by your own blade.  You have no idea why he insists on wearing it, but seeing him still cling to the fabric causes your heart to wrench.

“Eridan,” you say slowly, gauging whether or not your former-friend’s mind has returned to him.  “Cronus didn’t mention that you came back.”

“Cronus Cronus, wwhat a wwindbag!”  Eridan cackles, splashing the waters around him playfully.  Some of the sludge hits your shirt.  There’s one shirt going in the trash.  “He could never understand my truest of sciences!!!”

“What do you mean?” you ask.  There’s still a small chance that he’s returned to himself, but you know better than to get your hopes up.  “And what’s with all the cats?”

Eridan grins widely, spreading his finned arms out beside him, “Dirk!!!  I’vve finally figured it out!  The wway the wwater can be used to showw evveryone the truth!  Evveryone needs to drink the wwater!  First the cats, then the humans, then the GALAXY!!!  The wwater holds all the answwers an once evveryone drinks it they wwill understand my science too!!!”

Nope.  He’s still a deranged lunatic.  You sigh ever so slightly.  “I’ll only say this once, Eridan.  Quit it.  Quit all your madness and come back to us.  Live with Cronus for a while till you find your own place.  Unpolluted water might clean out your mind.  Then you can—”

“ _Fuck no!!!_ ” Eridan screeches, cutting you off.  “I’ll nevver givve up my home!  NEVVER!!!!”

In one sweeping motion, he draws his hands behind him and swings them forward, sending a tidal-wave of sludge-filled water at you.

Bracing yourself, you dig your blade into the debris below you, riding out the contaminated wave of water.  As the dark liquid swirls around you, you feel Eridan’s claws digging into your arms, yanking you free from the ground like he’s pulling a weed.  You fall back into the waters of the river with him.

It’s a good thing you don’t have to breathe.  Eridan uses his superior swimming abilities to drag you deeper into the water.  He’s got fins, damn it.  It’s not fair.

Speaking of unfair, you are both about the same age, but Eridan’s kind have always been more powerful than yours, for reasons you will nevver know.  Ahem.  Never know.

After many centuries, Bro developed the ability to read thoughts.  But from a very young age, Eridan has been able to read _and_ _place_ thoughts in others minds.

“ _Dirk, stay wwith me,_ ” Eridan’s voice pleads in your head.  “ _Drink the wwater.  Then you’ll understand.  Wwe’ll showw the wworld the truth!”_

You clench your teeth tightly together as he tries to pry your mouth open with his clawed hands, slicing your lips and drawing blood.  You mentally growl at the wasted blood.  Knowing Bro, he’s going to make you drink something nasty again later to replace it.

Determinedly, you think back, “ _Eridan, cut this shit out.  I don’t want to have to kill you again._ ”

His arms still as he reads your thoughts and sends back to you, “ _you wwouldn’t do that again.  Derse is such a dreadful place._ ”

“ _You can tell me all about it later.  I swear I’ll be all ears.  Just come with me,_ ” you plead, knowing it’s likely futile. You tighten your grip on your katana, wincing a bit as he throws his arms around you, digging his claws into your shoulders.  You know what this is coming down to. 

For the sake of everyone, you know your friend again has to die.

“ _Dirk, I can’t leavve!! I havve to show everyone the truth!  The cats ALMOST understand! In a feww wweeks I can start on the humans!  I can’t leavve!!  I can’t—”_

His thoughts still as you thrust your katana behind you, slicing through his scaled body and piercing his heart.  Without even looking, you know that you’ve killed your friend for the third time.

“ _Di—rk?_ ” Eridan’s thought reaches you as his violet blood begins to creep into your vision.  Soon you’re surrounded in it.  His grip on you loosens until his arms fall from around your shoulders.

You glance back just in time to see him fade away.

Jake is seated on the shore when you emerge from the waters, but he gets to his feet immediately when he sees you. “I say, Strider!  Are you all right, mate?  You look a little worse for wear,” he says with concern.

You trudge up to him, shaking some of the poisonous water and Eridan’s blood off you.  “Yep.  Took out the leader.  You?”

“Oh, I took care of the rest,” Jake says with a grin, patting a rocket-propelled grenade launcher at his side.  The thing’s about as big as he is.  You’re _certain_ that he couldn’t have been carrying that thing on him, but you don’t question it.  After all, where the hell does John keep his Zillyhoo?

“Good.  I’m so ready to get out of here,” you grumble, realizing that you’ll need to wash the inside of your Jeep after this.  Jake miraculously doesn’t have a bit of sludge on him.  You, however, look like you just went for a swim in a pig-pen.

But, quite miraculously, you manage to find your shades on the shoreline.  You were so distracted by Eridan’s reappearance that you hadn’t even realized that they flew off in the initial tidal wave.  Black tar-like goop drips off of them when you pick them up off the remnants of a rusted Coke Zero can.  Yep, those are getting washed before they go back on your face.

The thought of not wearing them for a little while does bother you a bit.  You glance hesitantly in Jake’s direction, but he’s already trundling off towards the Jeep.  He had to have seen your eye color earlier, but he didn’t react at all.  Then again, why should he?  You know he’s dealt with your kind before. 

He’s probably seen eyes every color of the fucking rainbow.  Why should yours be special? 

Answer: they’re not.  Not to supernatural beings like you.  And Jake.  Whatever he is.

You push these thoughts aside and focus on how dirty your car is getting as you drive it covered in filth.  Despite the detour to the car wash, you’re back home early again because you and Jake neutralized all the threats in record time.  You have no doubt that Dave and John have had similar luck tonight.

So, after the second shower of the night, you both cozy in on your second-hand futon.  Three extra-large pizzas from the 24 hour pizza joint down the street lay open on your coffee table while you suffer through some of the movies Jake calls his “favorites.”

It isn’t long before you come to realize that Jake’s “favorites” include pretty much every movie in existence.  After sitting through Transformers, Confessions of a Shopoholic, and Cinderella, you turn to him and ask, “Jake, please tell me we have been watching these movies ironically.”

“Irony?  Heavens no, old chap!” Jake says, beaming.  “Why, after watching Confessions of a Shopoholic the first time, I was inspired to wear a green scarf for three months!”

Somehow, you get the feeling he’s telling the truth.

The week passes in a similar manner, sans being forced to kill old friends.  All too soon, you learn that Jake’s terrible taste in cinema doesn’t stop at movies.  It spans TV shows too.  You suffer through hours of horribly bad soap operas, reality TV shows, and “sci-fi originals.”  You were beginning to have a little hope when he played the fourth season of Dr. Who, but then he switched it up with Toddlers in Tiaras.

Only one good thing came from all of that pain.  It was incredibly easy to convince him to watch the My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic series.

You watch with trepidation as you put on the first episode.  You’re a little nervous, admittedly.  What if Jake doesn’t appreciate it as much as you do?  What if he hates the show you absolutely adore?

You quickly realize that you had no reason to be worried.  Jake is captivated after the first minute, his eyes glued to the screen. He whoops and cheers as Twilight Sparkle meets each new pony friend.  You hold your breath as Rainbow Dash comes onto the screen.  What will Jake think of her?

Again, no need for concern.  Jake loves her.  Jake loves all the ponies.  You love this about Jake.

After watching through all the episodes with you, Jake declares that it’s his new favorite TV series and buys you both My Little Pony t-shirts.  You wear your Rainbow Dash shirt most un-ironically around the apartment and even to work a couple of times.  Bro shakes his head at you but doesn’t say a word.


	4. Who You Gonna Call?

****

**Dirk == >** **Hang out at work**  

Not your usual deal, but ok.  You’re stuck waiting for Bro to come back anyway.  No Bro, no assignments, no work.

In the meantime, Jake is more than happy to take on Terezi in a friendly game of pool.  You watch his delicious ass sway away while you sit at the bar.  You almost feel bad for him.  He has no idea what a shark Terezi is at pool.

“Wvhat’s the human saying, take a picture, it’ll last longer?” Cronus says, grinning from the seat beside you.

“Like you’ve got room to talk,” you counter, nodding ever so slightly in Kankri’s direction.  It’s no secret that they’ve got the hots for each other, but Cronus still flushes a deep purple at your comment.

You’d also say something about not giving himself away, but it’s not like humans come here anyway.  Bro always intended for his bar to be a haven for demons and otherworldly creatures like yourself and Cronus.  It’s part of the whole gig.  Give the demons a place to go, and they’ll bring info with them.  It works surprisingly well.

Cronus tries hard to blend in.  Harder than most of you, but there’s just a bit of unfortunate anatomy he can’t make go away.  Though he’s a merman, he’s older than Eridan. Cronus long ago learned how to dry off his tail and walk on two (albeit webbed) legs and feet.  His fins he can hide behind his clothes and shoes. But try as he may, his gills always stick out from behind his perfectly styled greaser haircut.

Clearly, Kankri doesn’t mind, as he pours Cronus what you’re sure is the fifth free drink of the night.  But it’s a sore spot with the water-dweller.  Speaking of which, what you have to tell him is certain to sour his mood too. But you owe it to him.  He deserves to know about last week.

You’ve never been great at breaking bad news to people, which is why you’ve waited this long to tell him.  So, as usual, you go for the blunt approach.  “Hey, I’ve got some bad news for you.”

Yeaaaah.  Usually you’re a _little_ smoother than that.  Oh well.  Too late to take it back now.

Cronus glances at you suspiciously.  “Vwell don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Eridan found a way back,” you murmur, dropping your voice so low that you’re pretty sure only the two of you will hear.

“My cousin?”  He gulps visibly, reaching an unsteady hand for his drink.  He takes several large gulps and places an empty glass back on the table.  “Did he?  I don’t suppose—”

Ever so slightly, you shake your head.  “I’m sorry.  I couldn’t convince him to leave.”

Cronus sighs, long and exasperated.  Slowly, he leans forward until his head is resting on the bar.

Immediately, Kankri’s at his side.  The troll is almost the spitting image of Karkat, manager and leader of the taskforce of this place. He has the same gray skin and unruly black hair, but something about Kankri is so much softer.  You get the feeling he wouldn’t hurt a fly.  He probably hasn’t.

Kankri places an ashen hand atop his friend’s and asks gently, “Cronus?  Are you all right?  Did I give you too much to drink again?  I would really hate that.  The effects that alcohol has on you can be so unpleasant, especially if you drink it in excess.  I am unsure of the exact mechanism alcohol has on your body, but I did not mean to cause that to happen to you again tonight.  It might be best if you ceased to drink it for a while. If you want, I can make the drinks weaker or maybe replace the alcohol with water.  That might stop the negative effects and—”

“It’s ok, Kan, I’m not sick,” Cronus sighs, clasping Kankri’s hand reassuringly.  “It’s Eridan.”

Immediately, a knowing look alights in Kankri’s eyes, and his gaze swings to you.  But you know better than to get caught up in the middle of this.  Before he can open his mouth, you’re already on your feet and walking off to find Jake.

Somehow, Terezi has already fully destroyed him at pool once.  Jake is aligning the cue ball just right, promising to beat her this time, when he sees you walk over.  “Strider!  You’re just in time.  Care to play a round of two on two?”

You arch an eyebrow.  “Who’s the fourth?”

“The handsome and charismatic yours truly,” Dave says, standing up from a lounge chair nearby.  He spins around a pool stick in an impressively flashy way (kid must have practiced for hours) and stands next to Terezi.  “Think you can take us on?”

You know it’s a lost cause before you start.  Terezi is blind, but if she didn’t carry around her cane everywhere, nobody would ever know.  Terezi and her sister Latula are both descendants from dragons.  You don’t question how it works.  As far as you know, the dark haired sisters have both always looked mysterious but human.  The only things that just might give them away are their magnificent double rows of razor sharp teeth. 

Something about her dragonian heritage allows Terezi to see by smell.  In the beginning, she was always a couple inches off her target, but over time, she’s honed her scent-sight into a formidable precision.  Likewise, while Latula lost her sense of smell long ago, she can see scents, a very useful skill when she’s sent out hunting.

Needless to say, anyone against Terezi in pool isn’t a fair game, but you grin and take up a pool stick anyway.  “Do your worst.”

They do.  Literally, you’ve never seen Dave play so poorly before.  But maybe John insisting on sitting on his pool stick every time he lines up a shot has something to do with it.  And maybe Terezi’s heckling doesn’t help him either.  And maybe Dave heckling Terezi back doesn’t really help her.  And maybe John determinedly getting in between the two of them doesn’t help either of them.

You observe it all (and Jake’s magnificent ass as he leans over, lining up a shot just right.)  What is your little bro doing?  You knew he had something with Terezi a while back, before John was really in the picture.  You’re pretty sure John knows about it.  With the way he’s acting, it’s almost like Dave’s _trying_ to piss off his boyfriend.

You take your turn, sinking one ball before scratching on your next shot.  Then you watch them even more closely.  It’s then that you notice the tiny smirk on Dave’s face, every time he does something to piss John off.  You snort in amusement. 

The little shithead’s doing it on purpose.

It’s a close game, but as you thought, you and Jake are no match for Terezi. The cackling troll manages to go on a killing spree, sinking 5 balls, including the final 8 ball, all in one round.

When you finish, you glance over at Jake, who is more than fired up and ready for another round.  He’s already collecting the all the pool balls from their pockets, eager to play again.  You’re actually a little taken aback.  You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so excited about anything before. Not even his prized pistols. 

“Dude,” you say, with just the tiniest hint of an inflection in your voice.

Immediately, Dave looks over, picking up on your cue.  Jake, however, doesn’t notice a thing.  You guess it shouldn’t be so surprising since he has only known you for about a week.  He hasn’t had a chance to learn your subtle Strider cues.  You wonder if he ever will.

Dave’s eyes flick over to Jake, and you immediately want to wipe the smug smirk off his face.  It looks like he’s about to say something, but Terezi takes your little bro’s moment of distraction as an opportunity to trip him with her pool stick. 

Instead, you move to Jake’s side and repeat again, “Hey.  Jake.” 

He doesn’t react until you place your hand on top of his. 

Gentle caresses, packed with suggestion, are a natural instinct for you.  The warmth of skin-on-skin, feather-light touches, and powerful mental suggestions behind it are all something you do without thought by this point.

Jake gasps lightly, breathily.  It’s a sound you would love to hear more. A faint flush rises to his cheeks as he trains his bright forest green eyes on you.  His lips are parted in a very inviting way, and it would be so easy to lean in and—

Instantly, you realize what you’ve done, and you pull your hand away quickly. 

The whole exchange only lasted a second, but to you, it felt like much longer.  That’s part of the beauty and curse of your kind’s ability:  you can control souls.  The elders of your kind, like Damara, are more powerful and can fully control the souls of the living and dead.  You’re still young in incubus terms, but even you can weave complex thoughts and desires into another’s mind through your touch almost instantly.  If your touch doesn’t do it, then your eyes certainly will. 

You do your best to hold it back, but sometimes it slips out unintentionally. Bro taught you and Dave to wear your shades everywhere to keep both your eyes in check. And you do wear fingerless gloves when you go out, but they don’t completely keep your abilities back.

You freeze, realizing that you’ve just placed the equivalent of a thousand sexual innuendos into Jake’s mind all at once.  Oh fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.  You hope you haven’t royally screwed things up.

“Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, dropping a few pool balls onto the table in his surprise. 

Oh shit.  Oh shit oh shit.  You’re already coming up with a million excuses, explanations that will make it all better.  You don’t dare look at Dave right now.

Jake smiles brightly at you and exclaims, “Strider, you snuck up on me!”

You blink.  That wasn’t the reaction you were expecting.  “No I didn’t,” you say oh-so-intelligently.

“I’m quite positive that you did!” Jake says with conviction.  There’s a smile on his lips and absolutely no indication that you just hit him with a million watts of incubus suggestion.  You mentally sigh in relief.  You’re safe.  For now.

“I didn’t sneak up on you.  You just didn’t notice me,” you insist, deciding not to address your little faux pas.  “What’s gotten into you?”

“Hmm?  Nothing, old bean!” Jake says, far too exuberantly for you to actually believe him.  “Nothing like a sporting round of pool, much like a smashing round of fisticuffs!”

There’s something very peculiar about his answer, but before you get the chance to question him further about it, Bro sweeps into the lounge. “Dirk.  Dave.  Got your assignments,” he announces.

You take one look at him and tisk. Though he hides it behind his orange cap, his hair is slightly disheveled, and his pale skin just a tad flushed.  You would bet anything that beneath his perfectly smoothed-out clothes there are bite marks on his skin.  And you know that not just anyone can leave bite marks on Bro.

You know where he’s been and why he was late tonight. “Thought you said you were gonna stop seeing her?”

Before you realize it, you’re on the ground.  Bro’s booted foot is resting on your chest.  “Was that a challenge, lil’ man?”

You do your best to shrug from your vantage point on the floor.  “She’s not my problem.”

Bro doesn’t grace you with a response.  Instead he holds out his fist above your head.  You’re not sure what he’s planning to do, but you’re silently thankful when all he does is open up his hand, dropping a small piece of paper above you.  It drifts down and lands neatly atop your shades. “Get to work,” he says with just the faintest hint of bitterness.  It’s so small that you’re not even sure if Dave picked up on it, not that he needs to.  Both of you know what’s going on with your Bro. It’s an unspoken and fairly well-kept secret between the three of you.  You’re not even sure if any of Bro’s employees know.

Terezi takes your pool sticks and looks at you in what you assume is a sympathetic way.  It’s tough to tell with her characteristic red shades on.  She knows better than to ask about Bro.

Jake doesn’t.  Or if he does, he pays it no mind and asks you about it later, when you’re driving to your target.  “I know it may not be my place yet, but is everything quite all right with Bro?  Those comments you made were a tad alarming!”

“Bro can take care of himself,” you murmur in response.  He can.  It doesn’t mean you have to approve of it, though.  You get the feeling that if anyone besides you or Dave knew about it, they wouldn’t hesitate to turn their backs on Bro forever.  Yep.  It’s that big of a secret.

You put it out of your mind, though, because you have other things to think of.

Namely Dave, who has been incessantly kicking your chair since you left.  You swat behind you blindly for the fifth time, and he curls his legs up onto the seat just in time to avoid your arm.  Bro has you two working together again tonight.  Not because the targets are especially difficult but because there are so few.  From the looks of things, you should be done in a little under an hour.

But the sooner you can ditch the little douchebag the better.

“Dude.  Hey.  Hey, bro.  Hey,” Dave says, poking your shoulder every time he utters a syllable.

“ _What?_ ” you growl back at him.

“We always listen to your mixes,” he answers, thrusting something shiny in front of your face.  “I wanna listen to mine.”

It’s a CD.  The words “bitchin’ awesome beats” are written on the front in scratchy red sharpie. You sigh back at him, “only if you stop being a cocky little shit.”

“I’m never a—” he begins, but when you start handing his CD back to him, he quickly amends, “ok fine. Whatever.”

You decide to indulge him and play his music.  A few seconds later, some rather sick beats are pounding out of your stereo.  You nod in time to the music.  It’s not bad.

You chance a glance back in the rear-view mirror and are not too surprised to see John perched on Dave’s shoulder.  His tiny wings flick in the wind as he wildly throws his fists around, spazzing out in time to the music.  Dave is sitting perfectly still, but there’s the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips.  You know that your bro is insanely happy right now.

A little later, you’re at your destination.  It’s a small house high up on a hill in the suburbs of the city.  A two-story two-car-garage masterpiece, the house sits alone amiss a field of weeds.  The crescent moon is obscured by dark clouds overhead.  Wind rustles ominously through overgrown and gnarled black tree branches.  A black cat runs by. 

This place couldn’t be more clichéd if it tried.

You’re about to turn off the Jeep when you feel Dave’s hand on your shoulder.  “Dude, wait.  Put on track 13.  Turn it up.”

You unsnap your seatbelt and turn around to face him, arching an eyebrow up in question.

“Trust me,” he says in a way that you definitely don’t trust him. 

But Jake does.  He doesn’t hesitate to crank up the music in the middle of this suburban neighborhood at midnight.  The light sound of phaser distortion slowly crescendos, and just before the beat drops, you hear Dave’s distorted voice say, “Who you gonna call?”  You finally crack a smirk.  Dave’s mixed it up, but you know this song. 

The Ghostbuster’s theme song.

You bust in through the front door, kickin’ 80’s beats pumping from your Jeep at your back and a bright as hell flashlight in your hands.  You’ve gotta admit, it feels a little badass.  Like you’re starring in your own damn thriller movie.

As Dave’s remix permeates the house, you split up and run through each room wielding giant flashlights.  Ghosts shriek and moan as you shine the ultra-bright UV lights on them, corralling all the specters into the kitchen.

Once there, John‘s ready for them.  With a dollop of fairy dust and the right incantations, the specters lose their unearthly glow.  He pulls out a mega-sized copy of the Holy Bible and smacks each ghost with it, screaming “PEACE BE WITH YOU!!!”

One by one, the ghosts vanish.  As the last specter dissolves into the air, the song finishes.

Wordlessly, Dave holds up a fist.  You bump him back.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Challenge Jake to a round of Halo**

Sure.  Why the fuck not?  You’re back early enough.  You fire up the old Xbox 360, which only still works because you’ve modified it so many times, and toss a controller at Jake.

He fumbles it a bit, dropping the plastic fork he’d been using to shovel fried rice into his mouth from the Thai joint down the street.  A few pieces of rice and corn get on your couch, but you don’t care.  Watching Jake’s shocked and somewhat flustered expression is totally worth it.

You’ve found that Jake is amazing with any guy.  Ahem.  Gun.  He prefers his pistols, but he kicks demonic butt with rocket launchers, sniper rifles, and shotguns.  You don’t doubt that he has many more weapons up his sleeves.  Someone with his experience shouldn’t have too much trouble picking up a first person shooter game.

Jake sucks at Halo.

He cries out in dismay as you beat him for the fifth time in a row.  “Strider!  This is completely unfair! Everyone takes far more damage than they should be able to, and this ‘needler’ is simply worthless!”

You smirk, murmuring, “maybe you just gotta pick up your game.”

Jake squares his jaw at you, looking at you with the most insanely adorably angry eyes ever.  You never thought that someone so pissed off could be so freakin’ cute.  “I have _plenty_ of game, thank you very much!”

“Sure you do,” you agree.

Decades of living with Bro have made you strong.  At least, it made you more aware of when someone was about to start a strife with you.

You’ve got just enough time to brace yourself as Jake throws aside his controller and tackles you to the floor.  You land hard on the thin rug just barely covering your hardwood floors.  Jake’s muscular frame knocks the wind out of you as he lands on top of you.  This time, you were a little ready for him, and he doesn’t pin you immediately.  You crash into the wooden table holding your food, and fried rice showers on top of you both.

Neither of you mind.  You’re both grinning as he attempts to lock both your arms down into submission.  You kick the table out of the way, earning you a few more specks of rice and an eggroll, and make enough room for yourself.  In one fluid motion, you kick off the futon beside you and knock Jake off you. 

He flips into the space where the table used to be, landing on the eggroll, smashing it into your threadbare rug.  That’s gonna be a bitch to clean up later, but right now you couldn’t care less.  As he struggles to right himself, you flashstep behind him, grabbing him from behind.  You pin both his arms to his sides, leaving just his legs to contend with.

Jake has more fight in him than 100 angry pit-bulls.  He kicks a bit before realizing that it’s useless.  Changing up his tactic, he leans into you, and for a split second you’re _extremely_ distracted.  Jake’s body is pressed up next to yours, his fantastic ass next to your crotch.  Thoughts of holding him like this for a very different reason drift through your head and damn do you _want him._ Being this close to him is doing things to you that it probably shouldn’t.

Especially not when you’re still in the middle of a strife.  Jake suddenly rolls to the side, heaving you both into the legs of your futon.  He breaks out of your hold and is suddenly atop you again. His left knee digs into your back, pressing your chest into the floor.  His right shin is pressed firmly across your ass and thighs, holding them in place.  His hands pin your wrists down beside you, and you know it’s all over.

“English: 2, Strider: 0,” Jake taunts.  You can’t see him with your face smashed into the floor, but you would bet anything that he’s grinning like a fool.  But you don’t care, because for the first time his bare hands are touching the exposed skin of your wrists.  It’s finally enough skin-on-skin contact for you to do something you’ve wanted to do since day one.

For the first time, you decide to taste him. 

Jake’s energy is bold.  It’s full of a fearlessly powerful rich favor that makes you yearn for more.  You thought that his energy would give you some clue about his nature, but it leaves you with more questions than answers.  He doesn’t taste like _anything_ you’ve ever encountered before.  It confuses and perplexes you.

You want him more than ever.

“Laugh it up while you can,” you grunt as he gets off you.  You’re kind of sad that he did.  You were enjoying the feeling of his body crushed against yours, his energy rolling in waves across your skin.

“Looks like someone needs to pick up his game.  Oh, and that someone isn’t me,” Jake says in a cocky way.

Your first instinct is to pin him to the ground, because you’re certain you could right now.  He’s distracted and overly confident.  With your speed, it wouldn’t be hard.

But you don’t trust what you might do after you pin him.  Because you would love nothing more than to capture him with your body, feel the warmth of his skin against your own, taste not just his energy but his mouth, ever so slightly nudge his affections with a twinge of your hips, move a little lower and—

Yeah, you’re going to stop those thoughts right now.

So instead, you throw the Xbox controller back in his hands.  He gives you a horrified look, his eyes widening and his mouth falling. You grin at him, on the verge of lightly chuckling at his expense.  “Care to prove that?”

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Tinker** 

Tinkering is one of your favorite pastimes.  Many sleepless nights (or days in your case) you’ve toiled over your prized robots in the room you use far more than your bedroom: your workroom.

What, did you think you brought your random make-outs back to your place?  No no.  You’re a little classier than that.  Besides, you don’t want or need all that baggage following you around.  Not that you’d let them remember you anyway.

Most nights, you’re perfectly happy to fully immerse yourself in your work and pump your music loud (through your headphones. You don’t want to piss off your neighbors too much.)  Tonight, as you work tirelessly on crafting a robotic hand, things are a little different.  Tonight, you have an audience.

Jake sits on a small wooden stool beside you as you hunch over your flat work-desk.  His eyes are glued to your hands, absorbing every little detail as you work.  Try as he might, he did not actually prove himself to be the Halo-master.  That title is reserved for you.  And sometimes Dave.

Instead of torturing your crush (because you’re not really into that, despite what people say about you and your brothers) you decide to show him your robotics workroom instead.  After cleaning up the mess of Thai food left over on the floor from your strife, you introduce Jake to your own Dirk-Strider-Patented-Man-Cave.  It’s a small room, but it’s all you need.  Your work bench takes up the most room, and your computer sits on a desk beside it.  An old tube T.V. lives in the corner.  Most of the time, it collects dust, but sometimes you like the distraction while you work. The ground is littered with a maze of robotic parts that only you know how to navigate without stepping on something.

Jake instantly trips over the multitude of parts laying around on the floor and falls onto the small wooden stool beside your work table.  He’s been contently sitting there for the past two hours.

And by contently, you mean his mouth has been working a mile a minute.

“Fascinating!”  he exclaims for the hundredth time.  “But I don’t see how any of this is going to work at all!”

“If I put this part over here,” you murmur, twisting together the frayed metallic ends of a couple wires.  Instantly, the index finger of your robotic hand springs into motion, twitching up and down at a rhythmic speed.

“Bloody genius!” Jake exclaims, rocking in his seat with excitement.

You allow yourself a tiny grin.  For some reason, seeing Jake this happy makes you feel just the tiniest bit of warmth in your undead heart.  It’s a strange feeling, one that you haven’t had in a very long time. Or ever.

Better not think about it too much.

“Wanna see what this is for?” you ask, setting the hand down and sliding over to your computer.  Though you’ve gone through many computers over the years, you’ve meticulously and carefully backed up and transferred one program every single time.  A program that you would just feel guilty if you left behind.

AR.

As soon as you turn on the computer, AR springs to life.  A computerized and diabolical version of your younger self, AR has quickly taken over every computer you put him into.  He could ruin you if he wanted to.  With his growing intelligence, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could ruin the whole world, but you know he wouldn’t do that.  Because as much as you tease and chide him about it, you know that somehow, somewhere in his programming, AR does have a heart. 

You’re not sure if it was there when you programmed him initially, or whether he discovered it on his own over time.  But the fact that he does care is undeniable.  It’s why you’ve made sure he doesn’t expire with each of your computers.  It’s why you’ve decided to build a body for him.

As Jake comes into view, a small camera built into the top of the computer screen adjusts and focuses the lens.  You know AR’s checking out Jake.  Not that it’s anything unusual.  AR can see everything you see through your sunglasses too.  When _you_ check someone out, _AR_ checks him out.  And you’ve got to admit, you’ve been admiring Jake’s fine plush rump a lot lately.

It’s not something you ever really think about.  But seeing the computer lens actively focus on him brings the thought to your attention. You’re not really sure how you feel about that.

A new chat window opens itself up in the center of the screen, and bright orange text greets you.

 **\--timaeusTestified [TT]** **began pestering** **timaeusTestified [TT]** at 5:12--

**TT: It’s been a while since you talked to me.  If I had any feelings, I’d be sad right now.  Who’s that?  Is that Jake English?**

The mic can pick up anything you say, relating it to AR, so you don’t bother typing back.  Instead you say, “admit it, you missed me.  And yeah, that’s English.  How’d you know his name?”

**TT: It wasn’t hard to figure out.  I spent the last few hours analyzing all the speech patterns every person you encounter says the most frequently and compiled it all into one fucking incredibly massive database.  You couldn’t possibly hope to comprehend all the knowledge I synthesized in just the last half hour.**

You’re not sure where he got it from, but AR is cocky as hell.  Oh who are you kidding, you know _exactly_ where that came from.  But AR also loves to beat around the bush.  Maybe it’s a bad habit he picked up from Jane?  You’re not even sure how much they talk to each other anymore.  It takes you a moment to realize what he’s talking about.  When you remember that AR can see what you see through your sunglasses, it all makes sense.  “You learned how to read lips?”

**TT: Hell fucking yeah.  Don’t know why I didn’t put the effort into doing that sooner.  I guess learning every single language was a nice distraction for a couple days.  Figuring out the meaning of your so-called “life” was a fun one too.**

You’re about to respond to him when suddenly Jake scrambles around, catching your attention.  He sits down at the computer chair and marvels at the screen.  “Oh! I remember this old program.  Pesterchum, was it?  I think I still have log-in identification.”

You don’t question why Jake has a Pesterchum handle.  Or why he calls it log-in identification.  You just watch in mortification as Jake logs in and proceeds to type back to AR in green text.

 **\--golgothasTerror [GT]** **began pestering** **timaeusTestified [TT]** at 5:15--

**GT:  Why hello there old chap!  Might i ask your name?**

**TT: Dirk.**

The look that passes over Jake’s face is at first surprised.  Then it morphs into a somewhat mortified suspicion as he glances at you and asks, “you?”

Slowly you shake your head.  “He was me back when I programmed him a long time ago, but he’s grown into his own person since then.”

“His own person—” Jake trails off for a few moments before his eyes snap up in shock.  “Why, is he a _computerized program?  Of **you**?_ ”

“Sure is,” you nod, feeling a strange mixture of pride and embarrassment at once.  “Most people call him AR.”

“Most people?” Jake questions.

“There’s a few of us,” you murmur back, not wanting to get into the details.  The one who talked the most to AR in the past was easily Roxy.  Since her death, AR has been oddly silent.  Not once has he bothered you with his orange text across your sunglasses.  You hate to admit it, but it kind of feels weird without him constantly pestering you.

“Fascinating,” Jake breathes, looking back at the screen. 

It may have been your imagination, but did your computer screen just flicker?  You glance at AR’s chat window, but the cursor is still blinking after his name.  He hasn’t typed anything since.  Curious.

**TT: So English, I hear you like My Little Pony.**

**GT:  Do i! Its simply BRILLIANT!**

You watch in mild amusement as Jake talks to the computerized version of yourself for a solid ten minutes about the beauty of My Little Pony.  Over time, AR’s tastes have probably diverged from your own.  Statistically speaking, it’s an inevitability, and truly you don’t mind. It’d be kind of creepy knowing that there’s an identical computerized version of yourself out there, even though you’re the douchebag that created it.  So really, you don’t want him to be the same.

But a small part of you is very pleased that AR still shares your love for the ponies.

Satisfied that AR isn’t going to fuck anything up for you, you let the two keep talking.  You sit back at your work bench, pop in your ear buds, and return to your robotics in peace.

Hours later, you take out your ear buds and look over to find one of the most adorable sights you’ve seen in a while. 

Jake is asleep at your computer.  He’s laying on his left arm, his pointer finger pressed down firmly on the letter “G.”  His mouth is slightly agape, his front teeth peeking out from his lips.  A small line of drool is running down his arm.

Awww.

Carefully, silently, you walk over to where he’s sleeping and look at the computer screen.

**TT: Hey.  Dude.  Where’d you go?**

**GT:  ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg**

**TT: English.  Hey.  I see you sleeping over there.  Wake up.**

**GT:  ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg**

**TT: No, don’t do this.  Stop. It’s really not cool.  Falling asleep on me is the opposite of cool.**

**GT:  ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg**

Gently, you pry Jake’s finger off the keyboard. For a moment, you debate what to do next.  A soft little blipping sound draws your attention back to the computer screen where AR has left a message for you.

**TT: Dude, just carry him back to his bed.  You know you want to.**

You do.  You really do.  So without a second thought, you carefully collect Jake in your arms.  He softly murmurs something about pumpkins but otherwise doesn’t stir.

Carefully, quietly, you carry him back to his room.  Toeing open the door, you gently lay him down on the green bedspread he bought a couple days ago.  You pull out of the closet a darling orange blanket embroidered with a baseball cap design. Kanaya gave it to you years ago for a Secret Santa gift. 

She was too nice.  That year, you gave Karkat a jar of mayo and watched him wig out about it for no less than fifteen minutes.  You smile at the memory and lightly lay the blanket atop Jake.

Your faces are so close that it really wouldn’t be hard to lean in and kiss him now.  He didn’t wake up when you moved him.  What are the chances that he’d wake up now?

Slowly, you lean in.

Closer…

_Closer…_

Your noses are almost touching when you pull away.  Nope, this isn’t right.  You’re not going to be _that_ creep.

Instead, you settle for ruffling his hair a bit and murmuring, “Goodnight Jake.”

He sighs something about biscuits, making you smile as you close the door behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you liked this chapter. It's set up for things to come, so it may not have been the most thrilling. Promise that things will get more exciting soon!
> 
> Special thanks to ChibiEdo for helping me color Jake and Dirk's Pesterchums! They were awful and plain when this was first posted. Still wish I knew as much about programming as Dirk!


	5. Strife!

**Dirk == > Ask Jake about his past**

Sure. It’s not like you have to do the work or anything. John already asked him.

Dave and John are over at your place for a videogame night. You’ve even made a tiny pixie-sized controller for John so that he can play Halo with you guys. He’s actually pretty good. Not as good as you or Dave, but he can hold his own.

Jake, however, still sucks at Halo.

“Rats!” Jake exclaims loudly, as he dies mysteriously and awaits respawning.

“Dave that was cheap!” John complains as he dies for the same reason, tossing his mini-controller in front of him in exasperation.

“No it wasn’t,” Dave says back a little too quickly.

“Yes it was!” John growls back, his wings tensing behind him as he glares at your little bro. “Hiding in the glitch spot and sniping everyone is like the fucking definition of cheap!”

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first,” Dave says snottily.

“No, I’m not. Stop cheating!” John demands.

“I’m not cheating,” Dave insists. “It’s strategy.”

“Ugg, fine! Whatever! I’m not playing again until you pick a different strategy,” John says. He pointedly flies over to the person the farthest away from Dave. That person would be Jake. He lands on his shoulder and sighs very loudly. “So JAKE. How are you doing over here? Bet you’re not cheating, huh?”

“I’d never dream of it!” Jake exclaims good-naturedly. “It has always been my motto to give my opponents a fair fight!”

John somehow forgets about Dave for a second and looks at Jake with genuine interest. “Oh that’s right, you worked somewhere else before here, didn’t you?”

“I certainly did! My team and I hunted the demons of Derse across the pond and wore the most dapper hats!” Jake says, beaming with pride.

“The pond?” John asks, tilting his head askew.

“Another way of saying the Atlantic Fucking Ocean,” Dave supplies.

“Yes, we hunted wherever there was need. Europe, Asia, Africa,” Jake says, ticking the places off on his fingers, having suddenly lost interest in the game entirely. Dave snipes him off again, but he doesn’t seem to even notice. “We even traveled to Australia!”

“Cool!” John exclaims. And even though it leaves you open for Dave to snipe you, you do glance over at the two of them. Jake and John both have the same doofy grins on their faces. It’s adorable and totally worth the kill.

Jake regales you with tales of fearsome demons that he and his crew hunted down for days. Demons that terrorized everything from cities to small villages. His tales are full of adventure, hunting for days at times before even catching sight of their target. When he speaks, he’s filled with an enthusiasm that he only has when he’s talking about his pistols. Or playing pool.

“I get the feeling you really liked what you did,” John says, after Jake finishes his third exciting adventure story.

“That is an understatement, my friend,” Jake says. He attempts to pick up the controller and actually play again, but Dave gets him within the first five seconds.

“So why did you ever leave? Why come here?” John asks the inevitable question.

Jake sighs, thumbing absently over the buttons of the controller. “Something happened. Something terrible. I lost most of my men, and—well, perhaps that is a story for another time.”

You’ve had several lifetimes to interpret the subtle inflections of others. If you can catch the tiny tells of your brothers, you can certainly catch those of people like Jake. He’s open as a child’s storybook.

Jake is hiding something. Something big.

You’d been dancing around it for a while, but finally, you send a rocket into Dave’s glitch spot, finally killing the little shit. He exclaims loudly that you cheated, but you really don’t care. You can’t play this game anymore. Your attention is on Jake.

His viridian eyes are downcast into his lap, and there’s an expression on his face that screams of pain and sorrow. Sure, you’ve only known Jake a few weeks, but you’ve never seen him look like this before. You’ve never seen him so torn, so anguished. There’s a burning anger set deeply behind his eyes that is very different than the last time he was angry playing Halo. Last time, his anger was adorable and endearing. Last time, you had wanted to strife with him, to cuddle with him and sex him up.

This time, it’s completely different. Jake’s anger isn’t directed at anyone. If you had to guess, it’s at himself. His face is contorted in a way that makes it look like he’s physically in pain, and even his breaths are becoming strangulated.

You wonder if he’s going to cry.

He doesn’t. Suddenly, he looks up, realizing that he’s got an audience. All three of you are staring at him, and John’s even flitted over into the safety of Dave’s lap. His expression changes to one of embarrassment, and he stammers, “Strider, sorry, it seems I’ve been quite a ninny! Let’s get back to this Halo, now shall we?”

There is so much you want to say to him, but you don’t dare bring any of it up. Not right now. Especially not in front of Dave. So instead, you silently shake your head. “No. No more Halo. It’s time for the ironic part of the evening.”

John groans. “Nooooo not again!”

“Yes again. Always. Forever,” you say, putting away the Xbox and pulling out the Wii U.

The title screen appears, filled with bright pastel colors. John groans. Dave sits in silence. Jake’s mouth falls open. ‘Flabbergasted,’ you believe he would say. You’re totally playing this game for the ironies. Totally. Not that you like it at all. Nope. It’s definitely not the best game ever.

It’s the My Little Pony Friendship is Magic game. 

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Skip ahead a few months, this is boring!**

Fuck no! You’re not skipping past the best few months of your life! And you’d easily say that the short three months you’ve known Jake English have been some of the best times in your life.

He’s actually a really good partner, which has made work easier. It’s made getting over Roxy easier too. You’ll never forget her, but at least the sharp pain of her loss has faded into a tolerable dull ache.

It also helps that Jake is easy on the eyes. And though you realized from day two that you liked Jake, you’re starting to wonder if it hasn’t become more than that. It’s a tough call sometimes, since your incubus urges are at times hard to ignore. You start thinking things about people that you know you’d never think that way about normally.

People like John. You love the kid, but you don’t love him the way your lil’ bro loves him. When you start wanting to fuck John, you know it’s time to high tail it out of your apartment and find something decent to snack/mack on.

It was difficult to get Jake to stay behind at first, but once he understood why you were “going out for a bit” he stopped complaining. You can’t say you’re overly fond of casual make-outs and sex with random people, but it’s a part of life for you. Without it, you wouldn’t be here.

It’s times like this that you miss Roxy the most. You know she loved you, and in a very different way than you loved her. She really loved you. You’d have had little freak pixie/incubus babies if it had been up to her. But you never felt that way about her. She meant the world to you, but she wasn’t your world like you were hers. Roxy knew that, and she understood it. And yet, she never once hesitated to feed you when you needed it.

You never went far with her, nothing past gentle kisses and a little making-out. As much as you loved Roxy as a person, boobs just weren’t your thing. You wish they could have been. You wish that you could have given Roxy everything she wanted, but you couldn’t. But that doesn’t mean your little make outs didn’t bring her happiness. Happiness that you hungrily fed off. Thinking back on it now, you’re a little disgusted at yourself that you used her like that, but she insisted it was ok. She wanted to help you out in any way she could.

You’re starting to think you wouldn’t mind if Jake offered something like that too. Ok, you definitely wouldn’t mind. You’re ready to tap that. But you won’t. Not unless Jake wants it, and from the looks of things, he’s more than happy just being best bros with you.

You can’t say you mind. The hours you’ve spent fighting monsters, watching movies, playing videogames, and just hanging out have been great. Jake quickly worked his way into your heart and became your best friend.

As for Jake, you don’t really know what he thinks of you. You can tell that he enjoys your company, but does he even like you? From the looks of things, you’d say he doesn’t. Or maybe it’s not that he doesn’t. Maybe he just hasn’t even thought about it.

You know that Jake admires you. He’ll watch you for hours fascinated when you tinker around on your newest robotic creation. You’ll finally have a robot body for AR soon, the computer program that you made of yourself a long time ago. It’s been a while since you talked to AR, but you know he’s still lingering around in the processing component of your shades and in your computer. You promised him a body someday, and you’re coming closer to giving him that. Just a little longer.

You’ve even let Jake continue talking to AR on your computer. Something about conversing with a young version of you both amuses and frustrates Jake greatly. You’re not really sure that you trust everything AR is saying to him, but you suppose you owe it to your computer counterpart to have actual social interaction every now and then. You think AR still talks to Jane, but the one he used to talk to the most was Roxy.

Your heart wrenches at the thought of her, as it does sometimes. Best think about Jake instead.

You’ve decided that you don’t know a lot of things about Jake English. For example, you still aren’t entirely certain what he is. You know he’s not human, but he is very much alive. Like Roxy was alive. Not a weird state of undead like you.

You’ve tasted his energy a few times now, usually during your strifes. It always throws you off balance, and the score is now an embarrassing English: 10 Strider: 0. But when you’re that close to him, you can’t resist. You want to know what he is so badly, and you just can’t seem to figure it out.

Your only clue is that he’s sometimes off on nights of a full moon. He hunts your targets with the same precision and determination as usual, but he seems tired on these nights. He still insists on watching whatever godawful movie he has in mind, but quite a few times, he’s fallen asleep on the couch half-way.

Could he be a werewolf? You’ve never known Bro to hire one of them before. He claims they’re too reckless and that they can’t be trusted. Jake doesn’t taste like one to you, but it’s been a long time since you’ve bedded one or even fought one long enough to feel its energy. The werewolves have been surprisingly calm and civil lately. If any of their number goes out of line, they take care of it before word ever reaches Bro.

You suppose the werewolf theory would explain a thing or two about Jake, but it doesn’t seem to fit quite right. For instance, you’ve never once seen him actually turn into a wolf, which you feel is a requirement for the species.

So you’re not sure what Jake is yet, but you will find out eventually. What you do know is that he was quite famous back where he came from. He also wasn’t lying about not missing a shot. Jake is adept with any sort of firearm, a trait that comes in handy quite often. And when you do your research, you find out that he wasn’t making up those stories he told John a few weeks ago.

Jake was indeed the leader of a group of vigilantes long ago. His men were all unique in their own way, and wore “dashing” hats and suits. They were very successful in hunting demons of the night, but something happened. Something that Jake still doesn’t want to talk about. And frustratingly, you can’t find information about it anywhere. Whatever happened, someone was damned good about covering it up.

He did tell you that after he lost a number of his men, he let the remainder go and continued hunting on his own. Many years later, he fell in with another demon hunting agency and eventually transferred out here because there was “more adventure in these parts.”

Something about his past doesn’t settle easily with you, and you know he isn’t telling you the whole story. You figure that in due time, like everything else, he will spill it to you.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Go on a date with Jake**

Ha! You wish. You’re nowhere near that part of your relationship! The best you can hope for is a bromantic evening of video games, junk food, and movies. That happens almost every night, so you can’t complain.

You’ve been living with Jake English for five months now, and distressingly, he’s become comfortable enough around you to trundle around in nothing but his boxers on warm summer evenings. Like tonight.

It’s only distressing because you have to fight to keep your hands off him. You want to touch his exposed warm skin, taste him, feel him... but you can’t. You promised him that from the beginning. You wouldn’t do anything with him unless he wanted it.

He’s wearing his black boxers with little green cthulhu monsters tonight. Not that you keep track of every pair of boxers he owns or anything. No, you definitely don’t do that.

“I say, Strider, after we finish tonight, would you care to watch that stunning new box office hit?” he asks, a spark in his vivid green eyes as he grins at you.

“You’re not talking about that romantic comedy from last month’s previews, are you?” You groan.

“The very one!” Jake agrees. “It will be simply delightful!”

You really disagree, but you find that you can never say no to him. Instead, you sigh, “only if you don’t mind my commentary.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Strider, I’d be worried if you didn’t.”

You eat, take what Jake has dubbed a “legendary infinite shower,” and arrive at work. You’re ready to receive your assignment, finish it quickly, and catch the 10:30 movie of whatever-the-hell with Jake later. But you soon come to realize you’ll be saved from that movie tonight. Though the sounds aren’t audible from the lounge or bar, the back office hallway is filled with the muted sounds of screaming, hissing, and scratching.

Bro isn’t in his office, so you find the next best person. Karkat, manager of the station.

The shrimpy troll is never happy to see you. Tonight is no exception. “Oh great. Another Strider up my ass. I think I’d rather swim in a pile of hoof-beast shit and choke on my own vomit than deal with another of you.”

“Nice to see you too,” you respond, long used to Karkat’s abrasive nature. And his interesting adjectives for common words. “What’s with all the screaming? Where’s Bro?”

“The screaming is Meulin Leijon, the poor tortured soul. Dave caught her and brought her back to the station because I’m-a-fucking-pussy-John felt ‘too sorry for her’ to kill her,” Karkat explains, making retching sounds when he finishes. “Your Bro is dealing with her in the cell right now. He said he wanted to see you when you came in. So please, go see him and get out of my ass.”

You tisk at Karkat’s flat ass. “Gladly. You’re not really my type.”

Karkat rants about sexual harassment and how overbearing it is working for incubi as he walks away, but your attention is on the door that leads to the prison cells below. You waste no time pulling open the door, but as you hold it open for Jake, you notice that his cheerful expression has fallen grim. His eyes are hard and his brow is slightly furrowed. “You ok?” you ask him.

“Y-yes,” he stammers quickly, in a way that you know he’s fibbing a little. When you level a glare at him, he dips his head and admits, “you know how Damara was kind of obsessed with me?”

He pauses, as if he doesn’t really want to continue. “Go on,” you urge him.

“Well Meulin kind of is too?” Jake finishes quietly. “I don’t really understand it.”

“So all the crazies have a thing for you. So what?” You ask with a grin. “Damara’s gone, and Meulin is locked away in the safest cell I know of. They can’t hurt you.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he murmurs, following you in almost a defeated way.

When you reach the cell, you find your Bro kneeling beside the bars, sliding a glass of milk through the enchanted metal rods. From the large gashes in the enchanted steel walls, you know that Meulin Leijon has been scratching away, trying to get out. She hisses at the walls in fury as she shrivels away from them.

“Now now, you won’t be able to get out that way,” Bro chides her, using the voice that he used on you and Dave when you were kids. “I know you’re upset, but you’ve got to stay here for a little while. We can’t just let you go.”

“Bro, you remember she can’t hear, right?” you ask, walking up beside him. You’re not entirely clear on how Meulin lost her hearing, but you vaguely remember that her boyfriend Kurloz was to blame. Despite that fact, she still seemed to love him, fighting viciously for him.

You will never understand women.

“Yeah I know,” he sighs. “I wish John had just finished the job. He’s too kind for his own good. Look at her, she doesn’t belong in a cell. She’s a feral animal.”

Meulin finally notices the milk in her cage and pounces on it happily. She laps at the milk in the glass, dipping her tongue into the liquid and purring in appreciation. She’s finished half the glass before she finally glances up and notices you. Then her gaze slides over to Jake.

She drops the milk onto the ground, forgotten as she springs up against the bars in happiness. Her face is split with an ecstatic grin as she reaches for him through the bars.

“Woah!” Jake exclaims, backing away.

“Jesus, what the fuck just happened to her?” you question, following suit and taking a couple steps back.

“Ugh,” Bro groans, clutching a hand to his head. “I’m not sure. She just keeps thinking ‘ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH!’ over and over again. Her mind’s a fucking broken record.”

Seeing that you aren’t coming any closer, her head droops and she pouts, her hands clutching the bars sadly.

“She says she doesn’t want us to be scared of her. She won’t hurt us,” Bro says, no doubt dipping into her mind. “She’s just really happy to see Jake.”

“You know her?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at Jake.

He shakes his head. “Not really. I mean, I did have to fight her once, but I don’t recall meeting her any other time.”

Meulin gazes intently at Jake’s lips, likely reading them, and huffs indignantly. Bro interprets, “she’s insulted. She says she helped you in the past.”

“She did?” Jake asks incredulously, blinking at her through his thick glasses. Slowly, he kneels beside her cage and tentatively reaches out a hand to her. “I’m so sorry little one, I don’t remember that.”

Bro frowns, murmuring, “she says Kurloz warned her that might happen.”

Meulin nuzzles his hand with her head, smiling happily.

“She’s glad that she got to see you again,” Bro murmurs slowly, turning to Jake. “You sure you don’t know her, English?”

“Positive,” Jake sighs, exasperated. “I only dueled her once, and she was like this the whole time. It wasn’t exactly a fair fight,” he admits sheepishly. “But once she expired, Kurloz appeared. I don’t know where the blazes he was hiding, but he was a much more formidable adversary!”

“I’d be happy if I never had to see that psycho clown again,” you mutter.

Meulin’s eyes happened to be on your mouth when you said that, and she sits up, affronted again. Her eyes narrow and her cheeks puff up.

“She says Kurloz isn’t bad, he’s just being used,” Bro interprets, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, she’s got a lot of intel on a large demon base nearby. It’s—extensive.”

Bro winces, clasping a head to the side of his head again. With an exasperated sigh, he takes off his orange cap, rakes his fingers through his hair, and repositions the hat back on his head. “Ugh, look, I hate to break it to ya, but reading her frantic thoughts is really taxing. It’s like a fucking ICP concert full of rainbow Faygo showers in there. Let’s wrap this up and head back outside.”

“Thank you,” Jake murmurs to Meulin, squeezing her hand. She purrs happily in response. He smiles warmly at her again, then stands up and follows you outside.

“Why’d you thank her?” you ask.

“She claims to have helped me in the past. I don’t remember it, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t thank her for it,” Jake explains in that good natured way of his. And you wonder why you’re in love with this guy.

—wait. Love?

You think about it a moment and realize it’s true. Ugh. Fuck fuck fuck.

When did that happen? Half a year ago you didn’t even know Jake. How did you grow to love him so fast?

Maybe you don’t really love him. Maybe you’re just hungry.

You quickly do your own Dirk-patented test. John Egbert. Do you want to screw John Egbert?

Fuck no. You think of some colorful Karkat-esque phrases of things you’d rather do than bone your lil’ bro’s fairy boyfriend.

Well shit. You do love Jake.

Bro glances back at you as he walks and you realize that this was a very stupid time to have this epiphany. He doesn’t say anything though and instead simply leads the way into his office. When you get inside, he shuts the door and sighs. When he opens his mouth to speak, you’re thankful that it’s not about your relationship woes. “You saw how defensive Meulin was about Kurloz. That means he’s out there. She claims he’s not a threat, but if we’re holding her captive here, you can bet your ass he’ll be shortly behind.”

“So you want us to stay here and protect the fort?” You ask.

“Negative, lil’ man,” Bro shakes his head immediately. “You’ve got work to do out there.”

You’re about to protest when Jake, of all people steps in. “I say, they seem to have no shortage of demon hunters.” And as you glance around, you realize it’s true. Everyone who works here, even shrimpy shouty guys like Karkat, are all capable hunters. Bro wouldn’t have hired them otherwise.

“Got that right. And don’t forget, the best hunter of us all is here,” Bro says, with a grin. “Me.”

“Yeah yeah,” You mutter back at him, but you know it’s true. Bro can whoop some sick-nasty butt when he feels like it.

“Now get outta here,” he says, shoving a paper with your assignments on it into your hand. You see a playful smirk on his lips and suddenly dread what he’s going to say next. “With any luck you’ll finish early and be able to catch that 10:30 show.”

As Jake lights up, you scowl. You officially hate your bro.

Except that you don’t actually hate him, or the movie either.

Ok, that was a lie. You do hate this film. It’s a predictable piece of garbage with a poor excuse for plot and acting, but you don’t mind sitting next to Jake in the theaters. You really don’t.

Jake of course is far too tuned into the movie to possibly notice the light way your arms are brushing each other’s on the armrest, or that you’ve inched your left leg over enough so that it’s touching his. When your hands both brush each other’s, reaching for the overpriced bag of Red Vines you purchased from the concession stand (Jake has an uncanny sweet tooth), you can almost taste his energy. Just the smallest of skin on skin is enough to make you smile.

Not that anyone can see you smiling in the theater. Because you don’t smile. You smirk or grin. You’re a Strider damnit, and Striders are too cool for smiling.

But you definitely enjoy it, like you do every time your skin meets his. You relish everything from the light brush of his fingertips as he hands you a screwdriver while you’re working to the rough tackles when you play a sporting game of “fisticuffs.” You certainly don’t mind when he pins you, or vice versa.

And you want to take it farther. Your body and heart ache for Jake English. But, you promised him you wouldn’t feed off him, and you haven’t. Not yet.

But you’ve tasted. From just the gentle touches you’ve had, you know Jake is warm and sweet, but daring and bold, and just the right balance of happiness and naivety. You know Bro would roll his eyes and mock you for your descriptions, but you would challenge him to describe the way energy tastes better.

Jake is perfect. You wonder why you never realized you loved him sooner.

timaeusTestified [TT]  began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 12:47

TT: Yeah I know. Took you long enough.

It’s been a while since the orange text has flashed across your view, broadcasted for your eyes alone on the sunglasses that you wear even inside the movie theater. You don’t move or give any indication that you’re doing anything. Just your thoughts are enough to reach the machinery in your sunglasses to send your words to AR. And you really don’t mind missing out on this movie anyway.

TT: Yep. Why do you think I’m talking to you now?

“You seem to think you know a lot,” you think back to your computerized half.

TT: Correction, I DO know a lot. Way more than you, in fact. While you’ve been spending these months chasing around short-shorts and fighting demons, I’ve only been getting smarter.

You smirk, amused with the way you used to think when you were younger.

TT: Correction, I’m at least 2,394 times as old as you now in computer years. So really, you’re younger than me. By a lot.

You sigh, remembering how irritating it is talking to the younger you. “What do you want, AR?”

TT: Nothing. Just the sweet satisfaction of rubbing this in your face: I figured it out a few months ago.

“Figured out what?” you think back, the tiniest hint of a frown on your lips.

TT: That you’re in love with Jake. Don’t worry, bro, I’ve got your back. I’ve been slipping him the hints. Getting him to try loving you back.

“You’ve been WHAT?” You are going to fry him. You’re going to break his program right now and end him.

TT: Dude, hear me out. Don’t shut me off yet. If you want to get Jake, you’re going to have to be a little more blunt. I’m you, so I love him too, but even I know he’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.

Much as you hate to admit it, AR has a point. But you’re not about to start something. You don’t want to risk pushing Jake away.

TT: Trust me, you won’t push him away. Jake is stubborn as the door on your old apartment. He won’t give up so easily.

The movie ends, and you hastily cease your conversation with AR. Even though you could sit next to Jake all evening, the movie theater ushers are glaring at you impatiently with their brooms, ready to sweep away the popcorn other people have left on the floor. Jake, being the gentleman he is, quickly vacates his seat and gets out of their way. He also stops touching your arm in the process.

You can’t taste him anymore. You sigh. Life isn’t fair sometimes, but you’ll deal. As you walk to your Jeep, you pull out your phone, noticing that you have a missed call. Yes, you turn your phone off during movies, you’re not that much of a douchebag.

You weren’t sure who you were expecting to hear, but John’s voice catches you by surprise. He sounds frantic, though his voice is loud and clear. He must have been shouting into the phone. You aren’t sure where he was, though, because his reception is terrible.

“Dirk! You’ve gotta......... it’s really bad!...... help him he’s…….” John’s voice is cut by static, rendering most of his message useless, but you hear his last few words clear as a crisp winter evening. “……. I don’t want him to die.”

Die? You stiffen, pausing for a moment while your mind quickly processes everything.

Who is John talking about?  
There’s only one person John would sound so distraught over.  
  It has to be your lil’ bro Dave.

But what could possibly be wrong?  
 ~~He’s out of energy.~~  
  The kid was fine last time you saw him.  
Someone hurt him.

Who hurt him?  
 ~~One of his targets.~~  
  Meulin was probably their biggest target, and she’s sitting in a cell.  
    Someone unexpected.  
 Get more specific.  
Someone who came after him.

Who would come after him?  
 ~~Bro hurt him in a strife.~~  
  Bro would never hurt Dave like that, you dipshit.  
 Someone who had a reason to go after him.  
Someone like…?  
  Someone like Kurloz.

You have to get to him right now.

Where is he?  
 ~~Probably back at his apartment.~~  
  No, Kurloz probably took him somewhere.  
Where would Kurloz want to go?  
  He’d want to find Meulin.  
    He’s probably at Bro’s lounge.

The whole thought process only takes a second or two, but it’s long enough for Jake to peer at you strangely from across the Jeep and ask, “Strider?”

“Get in. I have a feeling we don’t have much time,” you tell him. You quickly jump in, and as Jake follows suit, you fire up the engine and peel down the road.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Save your lil’ bro**

You can smell and hear the destruction before you’re there. When you pull up to your usual parking spot, you can finally see that the place is a total mess. Glass from several windows litters the sidewalk, and even the front door has been blown off its hinges. You and Jake hurry inside.

The place is a mess. Broken liquor bottles litter the barroom floor, and it looks like many of the tables and chairs have been slashed to several pieces. The lounge isn’t in much better shape, and in the back offices, the floor is a receptionist’s nightmare, littered with papers and debris. You wince as you notice the fallen bodies of many bar regulars and your comrades on the ground, their bodies sliced open and mangled in a terrifying way. You didn’t think Kurloz was this destructive last time you fought him.

“Strider, this is—” Jake murmurs beside you, his green eyes wide and his expression appalled.

You wave his comment aside with your hand. Whatever, there isn’t time to think about it right now. “Keep moving,” you mutter back quietly, doing your best not to alert anyone to your presence.

There are sounds coming from the basement, where you know Meulin is being held captive. The scuffle of battle reaches your ears, and the very distinct sound of Kanaya revving up her chainsaw. You also hear Bro’s katana striking metal. You have to help them.

You hurry through the door to the basement and down the stairs.

The only thing that saves you from a face-full of ninja stars are your fast Strider reflexes. You manage to shove Jake aside and push yourself away from them just in time. The sharp clank of metal hitting the stairs behind you dulls in your ears as your eyes widen behind your shades. You literally can’t believe your eyes.

Bodies of your demon-hunting coworkers are strewn across the floor. Terezi lays in a pool of her own blood not far from you, her lifeless hands still clutching the sword adapted from her cane. Not far away is Kanaya’s chainsaw, kicked far away from where she appears to be knocked out against the wall.

The towering demon Kurloz is the very embodiment of the macabre itself. He stands silently in the corner beside the prison cell still holding Meulin. She’s gripping the bars tightly, anxiously watching and waiting. Though Kurloz is a terrifying force, with mental manipulation powers far greater than any other you’ve seen, you know it wasn’t him that killed the people upstairs.

How had you ignored the clear signs? It should have been obvious to you more than anyone. The one who killed them wasn’t Kurloz at all.

It was Bro.

Bro stands ready, his katana held in both hands and prepared to strike. He’s taken a traditional battle stance, and even though Kurloz is towering literally right behind him, he’s got his eyes on you.

“Bro?” you question, in disbelief, but he doesn’t respond to you. Instead, he flash-steps behind you, his blade already in motion.

You’re no stranger to a strife with Bro. You manage to counter him with your own katana, but his surprise attack draws blood on your upper arm. Immediately, he lunges at you again, and again, you’re just fast enough to keep up and parry him.

You don’t waste time questioning Bro anymore. He wouldn’t choose to strife you with enemies nearby. Bro isn’t himself. Something, or rather, someone is doing this to him.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. You chance a glance in Kurloz’s direction and notice that, beneath the wild strands of black hair, his dark eyes are trained on Bro. The demon’s mouth is still self-sewn shut, but you know not to be fooled by that. Kurloz is a telepath too, but unlike Bro, he doesn’t just read thoughts. Like Eridan, he can insert his own thoughts into other’s heads. But, Kurloz is far older than Eridan. With time and age he has picked up some unfortunately useful skills.

Kurloz can make his thoughts more than mere suggestions. He can make them commands.

Bro is being controlled by him.

You’ve taken a moment too long to observe all of these things, and in that moment, you’re just slow enough for Bro to catch your leg with the tip of his katana, tearing a gash through your pants and drawing blood again. You don’t waste time wincing at the pain, instead keeping your attention fully on Bro.

Quite frankly, you’re a little worried. You’ve never been able to best Bro in a strife. Mind-controlled or no, you’re not sure if today is the lucky day you’ll be able to beat him.

But what other choice do you have?

Oh right. You do have a partner.

“Jake!” you shout, grunting as Bro shoulders you roughly into the wall. “Take down Kurloz!”

You don’t know if Jake is just standing there or not. You wouldn’t be surprised if he is. He does seem to freeze up at the most inconvenient times. Unlike last time, though, you don’t think you’ll have your lil’ bro’s fairy boyfriend to bail you out.

Where are they anyway?

You know it isn’t safe, but you peel your eyes from Bro again just long enough to sweep your gaze around the room. Dave’s not here.

You’ve taken your eyes off Bro, and of course, he’s managed to slice into you again, this time catching your left cheek before you can flash-step away. It’s an all-out flash-stepping war from this point on. A war that Bro is slowly winning.

You don’t know how long you can keep this up. In the past, you might have been tempted to just let Bro win, knowing that he wouldn’t actually kill you. But after seeing what he did to the people upstairs, and Terezi and Kanaya down here, you know you can’t afford to do that.

Finally, the deafening sound of a shotgun rings out, followed by another and another. The bullets never touched Bro, but like a broken puppet, he suddenly staggers and falls to the ground.

“About fucking time, Jake!” You grunt, flicking your gaze over to where Kurloz and Meulin are now a pile of dust on the ground. You’re a little surprised that Jake would kill Meulin too, but maybe he thought it was mercy?

“Jake? Please. Bro would have sliced your nookhumping carcass into pathetic ribbons that would have festered and molded for at least a fucking decade if you were waiting for that worthless douchecrumpet.”

You swing your attention over to that familiar grating voice and find one Karkat Vantas holding a shotgun. You blink in surprise. You didn’t know he was big enough to use a shotgun. Much less use it well.

He sighs, correctly interpreting your silence, “Yes, I know how to use a shotgun, so stop staring at me like a kid who lost his first fucking chewing enamel. I don’t prefer it, but there’s no way in hell I’m getting close enough to grubfucking psychic Makara for him to work his mind-control douchery on me. Look at what it did to Bro! Half our office is gone.”

“That many?” Bro murmurs quietly, struggling to sit up.

Despite the fact that you were fighting him for your life not a few seconds ago, you feel a twinge of pity for him. You’re at his side helping him up before you realize it. “Yeah,” you agree with Karkat. “It’s pretty bad upstairs.”

“Fuck,” he swears quietly under his breath. Quickly, he turns his gaze to Karkat and says, “I need you to help the others upstairs. Anyone who’s still alive. Call in Jane. We’re going to need her.”

Karkat visibly blanches. “Do we have to call her? We could—” A single glare from Bro is enough to make him sigh. “Fine fine, one Crocker bitch coming your way.”

Silence settles into the dingy basement room after Karkat disappears upstairs. For a few moments, Bro doesn’t say anything, but you see a muscle in his jaw flickering. You know he’s clenching his teeth, silently furious at himself. If you know Bro, and by now you’d hope that you do, he’s having some pretty dark thoughts.

“Kurloz was controlling you,” you say quietly. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“Like hell it wasn’t,” he growls lowly, removing his cap so that he can rake a distraught hand through his hair, clenching it at the end. “Kurloz got to me easier because I’m a telepath. I couldn’t block him out.”

“Then that’s something you’ll just have to work on,” you murmur. “But we have other things to worry about right now.”

Like Dave.

You tense, suddenly recalling John’s frantic phonecall. “Hey, have you seen Dave tonight?”

“Not since he brought in Meulin. Why?” Bro asks, a new look of concern in his expression. His eyes are still shielded by his shades, but his sudden alertness, the way he leans forward ever so slightly, his fingers twitching slightly, are all clues.

You try to hide your worry, but you know that with Bro it’s no use. He can read you just like you can read him. Probably better. So you might as well just spit it out. “John called a little while ago. He sounded more freaked out than usual.”

“Fuck,” Bro growls again. He’s on his feet, flashstepping to the staircase before you realize it. “I’ve gotta get to him.”

You flashstep beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Solemnly, you shake your head. “Nah, Bro, you’ve got a lot to handle here. I’ll take care of him. Where’d you send him?”

Bro shakes his head. “That’s the problem. I didn’t send him anywhere else. He could be anywhere. He could be—”

“Chill,” you tell him. “I know his usual hangouts. I’ll find our baby bro and make sure he’s safe.”

You can see Bro visibly struggling with your suggestion, but eventually he nods. “Ok, we’ll play it your way. But at the first sign of trouble—”

“I’ll call you. Got it,” you finish for him, ushering him upstairs.

Now that Bro is off your back, you finally notice that Jake’s still just standing there awkwardly. You wonder if he feels bad for freezing up again. Instead of asking him that, you lean in a bit closer to him and ask, “hey, English, you ok?”

He seems to snap out of it, blinking a few times behind his adorably nerdy glasses.

…no. You did not just think the words “adorable” and “nerdy” in the same sentence.

“Strider, my apologies, I seem to have been quite useless once again,” Jake murmurs distraughtly. When you look a little closer into his jungle green eyes, he seems a bit more panicked than usual.

You frown, deciding that doesn’t suit Jake. “Whatever, it’s ok. I can hold my own against Bro.”

You totally can’t. You wonder if Jake knows that, but if he does, he doesn’t give any indication. Instead, he gives you a small smile and says, “of course! Never a doubt!”

You can tell that he’s trying really hard to be cheerful, but something’s really bugging him. But you don’t have time to ask him right now. You can get all those details out of him later. Right now you have more important things to do.

You’ve still got a little brother to save.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Even those of you who don't live in the states. ;)
> 
> I'm sorry my formatting got messed up a bit. The section with the strikethroughs should look much prettier than that, but again, formatting in Word doesn't seem to translate well. In the future, I guess I'll have to refrain from showing Dirk's thoughts this way, fun though it is to write.
> 
> Also, some of you may be wondering, "where's the action you promised?!" Admittedly, I had to truncate this chapter due to length. It's already almost 20 pages long, all on its own! So, some of the action is being saved for the next chapter. More supernatural goodness to come!


	6. Into the Darkness of Derse

**Dirk == > Save your lil’ bro for real this time!**

You’re working on it, all right?

You’re halfway down the road when it hits you. The uncertainty. It’s a part of you that you hate and desperately try not to show anybody. To this point, you don’t think anyone knows about it, though let’s not kid yourself, Bro knows everything about you. Dave probably does too.

You’re feeling this way because you have no idea what you’re up against. You don’t even know if you’re headed in the right direction. You think Dave probably would have picked up a pizza and headed home, but you’re not sure. He might have wanted to go somewhere with John tonight. Maybe he decided to pay Rose a visit? You couldn’t say for sure that he’s anywhere.

You don’t know for certain, and it’s driving you mad. You’re a fan of numbers. You like having a definite answer. You’re great at robotics for a reason, because you’re fantastic at deducing, problem solving, and finding the correct solution.

None of that quite fits in here. You could play the percentage game, but you hate knowing that your baby bro’s life rests on a 68% chance that he went home. That there’s a 35% chance that whatever he and John couldn’t take down is more powerful than you and Jake can handle. You don’t even know what the percentage is that Jake will freeze up on you again, but that seems to be happening more as of late than you’d like too. If he freezes on you, that number goes up from a 35% to a 73%...

“-Strider?”

You suddenly realize that Jake has been talking to you. “Huh?” you answer smartly.

“You seem deep in thought. I apologize, I shouldn’t disturb you,” he murmurs in a way that is so not Jake that you find yourself frowning.

“Don’t apologize for my inattention. What did you want to say?”

“I umm, heh,” Jake laughs half-heartedly, scratching the back of his head in that tell-tale manner that he’s extremely embarrassed about something. Not that you really have to look for his tells, though Jake has so many of them. You just happen to look for these things now after decades of dealing with Bro. Also Jake’s little tells are cute. “I wanted to say I’m sorry, mate. You know, for being a ninny again. I wanted to help, but I couldn’t—”

You realize he’s talking about Kurloz. And your fight with Bro. If Karkat hadn’t shown up, you have no doubt that you’d both be sliced to pieces on the basement floor by now.

“It’s ok,” you interject, not wanting him to have to continue on that line of thought anymore. It makes you feel a little bad to see him so uncomfortable. “But a little warning next time?”

He nods. “I’ll try.”

You realize right after you say it that he has been trying to warn you, in his own Jake-like way. His apprehension, when he’s usually so gung-ho about jumping into the thick of adventure. The way he stammers over his words even more than usual. His odd silence. They’re all so not Jake that you’re not sure how you missed it before.

You give him what you hope is a reassuring pat on the arm. You’re not sure if it is though, because as soon as you touch him, you instinctively recoil. Touching his bare skin with yours, you couldn’t help but taste his energy.

You’ve tasted Jake before, just earlier tonight in fact. He’s wild, exciting, and innocent. It’s part of what you love about him.

But what you taste isn’t quite right. It’s still Jake, but there’s an underlying bitterness now, hinting ever so slightly of Kurloz and… Damara?

You want to doubt yourself, you really do, but you’ve never been wrong before. It’s one of the many gifts and curses of your kind. You can tell when someone’s left their influence laying around, mentally, physically, or spiritually.

Whether he realizes it or not, Damara and Kurloz have definitely influenced Jake. You aren’t sure why you didn’t pick up on Damara’s influence before. Maybe Kurloz’s added effect brought hers out more?

Maybe Damara’s back?

You inwardly shiver at both of the possibilities. You have to check his energy again. You have to be sure. There’s no way to be inconspicuous about it, but right now you don’t care. So you reach out for him again.

Jake laughs lightly as you pat his arm again. Giving you a shy smile, he says, “Strider, I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be all right.”

Like flipping a switch, the influence is gone. Jake’s energy is clean again.

What is going on?

Normally, you would ask Jake about it, but you have other things to be concerned about right now. It leaves you wary as you pick up the speed to Dave’s place.

The Jeep peels to a stop in front of the ritzy high-rise condominium complex. Dave, showboat that he is, lives in the top penthouse of this premium lakefront property. It takes you all of .02 seconds to decide, “we’re taking the stairs.”

“The stairs?” Jake blanches, gazing up at the 95 story building. “Didn’t someone warn you about the stairs? Bro, perhaps?”

“Bro’s a wimp when it comes to stairs,” you scoff. “Besides, the power’s out.”

Jake blinks, likely just realizing that the entire building is dark. “Why so it is. Stairs it is, then!”

You lead the way, easily slipping into the building through a side maintenance door and beginning the long ascent up to the top floor. It doesn’t take you two very long to get to the top. You’d like to think that you’re in pretty good shape, but even you start to feel it a bit when you reach the 95th floor. Jake is breathing a bit hard beside you too, and when you gaze at him, you can’t help but wish that he would be beside you breathing like that for an entirely different reason.

His warm body next to yours, his breath hot on your neck, saying that he wants you, his cheek pressed against yours, fingers digging into your hair as you pull his hips closer to you and—

You push your inner incubus away and ignore Jake’s sexy pants beside you, focusing your attention on what lies ahead. Slipping into the hallway, you take a small breath when you realize that the door to Dave’s house is ajar. Dave, like you, is a fan of his own personal space. He would never leave the door open like that.

Looks like you guessed right. Your little bro went home. Now it’s time to see who’s threatening to hurt him and to kick some major ass.

You indicate toward the door with your head, silently drawing your katana, and Jake nods in understanding, bringing out his double pistols. Stealthily, you sneak in.

The power is out, unsurprisingly, leaving the room nearly impossible to see, especially with your shades on. But you won’t take them off. You know Dave’s place well enough to get around without tripping. You keep your senses alert, watching for any signs of movement.

With a nod of your head, you send Jake toward the kitchen while you check out the living room. It’s clear, and the guest bathroom and bedroom are both clear too. You meet up with Jake again at the hallway. He shakes his head, telling you that he didn’t find anything either.

Together you turn down the hallway. The study is clear, his DJ room is clear, the second guest bathroom is clear.

Tension is beginning to build in your stomach. There are only two more rooms left. You’re not sure whether you will be more or less relieved to find something, or someone, there.

Slowly you creep forward. John’s bedroom is clear. That leaves only one room left.

Your ears perk up. There’s a slight rustling coming from Dave’s room. Some twisted part inside you really hopes that you walk in on your little bro having sex. He might hate you a little for it, but it would certainly beat finding him dusted on the ground. Stealthily, you slink inside.

The room is dark. Too dark to make out anything, but you can tell that something is alive in this room. Something that might have killed your little bro. Something—

Jake walks in front of you, putting his guns away. “You can come out,” he says in a way that almost sounds—friendly? “It’s just Dirk and I.”

A small ball of blue light peeks out from the top dresser drawer, illuminating the room in a soft blue glow. “John,” you breathe a sigh of relief, sheathing your katana and walking over to him.

“Hey guys,” he says quietly. His voice is soft and a bit raspy. It sounds like he’s been crying.

Jake reaches out to him, scooping John up in his hands from amidst the piles of Dave’s unmatched socks. “Are you all right?” he asks gently.

“Yeah,” John says, though he sniffles, affirming your thoughts from before. “I’m glad you guys came, but—but it’s already too late. They already took him.”

John looks at you and pulls his signature move, flying into your chest and hugging your clavicle, his tiny little tears moistening your skin. You don’t need to taste his energy to tell how he’s feeling. John’s an absolute mess. “Who took him?” you ask, forcing your voice to remain calm despite the fear and anger burning inside you.

John’s voice is a little muffled as he talks into your chest, but you can tell what he’s saying. “Agents from Derse. They came for Dave and took him. Dave threw me inside his sock drawer. They must not have noticed me. By the time I got out, they were gone. I found his phone and called you.”

A chill runs up your spine. Agents? You’ve heard of them before. The Agents are Derse’s most elite hunters. Usually they stay in Derse, and rarely do they ever show themselves outside. You’ve never had to face them before, and to your knowledge, Bro hasn’t either.

“Agents,” Jake murmurs, his expression darkening as his eyes narrow.

“Have you fought them before?” you ask.

“I have unfortunately had that pleasure,” he responds, quietly.

“You have?!” John perks up, his voice a bit on the hysterical side. “What are they going to do to Dave?? Are they gonna—”

“They won’t kill him,” Jake interjects quickly. You feel John’s apprehension dissipate just a little bit. “They’ll take him back to Derse and lock him in a cell.”

“Lock him in a cell?!” John squeaks. “He’ll die if they don’t feed him!”

“They should provide sustenance,” Jake reflects, gazing off to the side deep in thought. “Bread, water…”

“Bread and water?! Do they know what he eats?!” John laments, falling down into your waiting hands. Miserably, he gazes up at you, his bright blue eyes filled with sadness. “Dirk, we have to save him! I don’t want Dave to die.”

“I don’t want him to die either,” you softly agree. “We’re going to get him back.”

“It’s possible,” Jake nods in agreement. “Not easy, but possible. We need to find a stable portal to Derse. One that will support transferring us there and back. Most of the portals the demons use don’t fit that bill. I would suggest talking this through with your Bro first. He might have a better idea where we could find a stable route of travel.”

“Bro’s gonna flip his shit,” you mutter, sighing as you start the slow descent back down the stairs.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Save your lil’ bro!**

You’re trying ok?!

Admittedly, you’re more relaxed after hearing what Jake has to say. The Dersites tend to prefer locking up their enemies for unknown lengths of time instead of killing them. You’ll have to assume Dave is in the former group over the latter.

Bro does indeed flip his shit. By the time you get back, he has the place largely cleaned up. Even some of the coworkers you had passed by before, very dead coworkers, are very much alive now and are helping clean the place up. There’s no sign of the patrons whose bodies were laying around the bar. Either they’ve moved on to the next realm, or they hightailed it out of there once they were revived.

You find the cause sitting on the couch in Bro’s office, sipping a cup of coffee. “Hiya boys,” Jane grins, glancing sideways at you and John from behind thick glasses and waving at you with two fingers. She’s dressed in a casual t-shirt boasting her favorite ectoplasmic creatures and a short denim skirt. Though the weather doesn’t necessitate it, she’s wearing a fashionable thin beige scarf that shimmers when it hits the light right and matching boots.

“Long time no see,” you offer, holding out your hand for a fist-bump. Her grin widens as she bumps your fist back.

“You’ve been MIA for a while,” she comments with a pout. “Talking to AR is cool and all, but why haven’t you been online lately?”

You shrug, accidentally knocking John a little off balance from his perch on your shoulder with the motion. “Been a little preoccupied.”

Jane looks skeptical, but she seems to buy it. Truthfully, you’d consider telling her about your little Jake crush if he weren’t standing right behind you in the doorway. And if Bro wasn’t surely lurking around somewhere nearby.

Jane’s a good friend of yours. Though technically you’ve only known her for a few years, she quickly became one of your best friends. Gifted with the ability to give life back to the dead, she’s one of the few humans that ever graces this place. Some would call her a witch. You would call those people jealous.

“Jane?” Jake asks, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Oh my god, Jake? Jake English? Is that you?!” Jane’s off the couch pronto and leaping into Jake’s awaiting arms. Something small and uncomfortable twinges in your heart at the sight, but you do your best to ignore it. Jane pulls back from him and she’s all smiles. “What are you doing away from the homeland?”

“More excitement and adventure to be had over here, my girl!” he says, winking at her.

“No kidding!” she says far more enthusiastically than you’d like.

“Nope, no kidding at all!” he agrees, in a statement that frankly baffles you but has them both laughing. What the hell is going on?

“You know each other?” you ask.

“Oh yeah, Jake and I go way back!” Jane exclaims.

“Way way back,” Jake agrees, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Wait. Suggestively? What?

Jane giggles and you think you’ve had enough of this. You clear your throat, drawing their attention back to you. “Any idea where Bro is?” you ask impatiently, reminding Jake, “we still have a little bro to save.”

Jane looks over at you with concern. “What happened to Dave?”

Like a phantom, Bro’s suddenly standing by your side too. “Yes, what happened to Dave?”

You can feel John getting worked up again from his perch on your shoulder. “Derse agents took him back to Derse!” he exclaims, fluttering in front of Bro’s face. His eyes are the biggest you think you’ve ever seen them, and the bright blue depths look at Bro imploringly. “Is there a portal around stable enough to take us to Derse and back? We have to save him!”

Bro tenses, his body knotted up like a tight spring beneath his simple popped-collar white shirt. You can tell he’s thinking, weighing the options. It takes him a moment before he replies, “yes, I think there is one.”

You feel a spark of hope ignite in your chest. “Where?” you ask.

“It won’t be easy to get to,” Bro murmurs cryptically.

He’s right.

The heat sears at your skin as you ride your rocket-board straight into the lava belching maw of the volcano. Normally, you’d be thrilled to have Jake pressed against your back as tightly as he is, gripping your waist with an iron hold. But right now, you’ve got something bigger on your mind. Something like properly steering this thing into the tiny portal only slightly bigger than a child’s hula-hoop.

“Not that I don’t trust you, but do you think we can fit in that itty bitty hole?” John screams into your ear over the rush of the wind, clinging desperately to your sleeve.

“I’ve fit into smaller holes,” you instantly respond, unable to resist despite the situation.

“Groooooooooooss! You AND Dave both—ugh!” You can feel John’s eyeroll. “That is SO not what I meant!”

Whatever he was about to say is suddenly lost in a scream as you dive closer and closer to the lava, spiraling into the volcano. The intense heat would be unbearable for a normal human. Luckily, none of you are. You’re not sure what Jake is, but he seems to be fine though he clings to you even tighter. Jane wanted to come along, but it was this very reason that kept her back at the lounge with Bro. He also wanted to come but reluctantly admitted that he was needed here in the unlikely (but possible) case that you don’t return.

But you will come back. You’re sure of it. And you’re bringing your little bro back with you.

The lava is now only a few feet away, and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. The portal is just a bit bigger than it looked from above, but it still leaves very little room for error. Good thing you have lots of practice using your rocketboard. You duck down, pulling John and Jake with you as you grip the bottom of your board. “Hang on,” you instruct them, like they’d do anything else, as you dive through the portal.

The heat reaches an almost unbearable degree, and suddenly you’re through. A wave of cold air washes over you and the bright light of the volcano vanishes into the dreary darkness of Derse.

You don’t think there are any lights in this city. Instead, a deep purplish glow seems to emanate from the very buildings and ground, casting a soft light on everything. If Bro were here, he’d surely be taking notes on how to jazz up his lounge.

Luckily, the portal dumped you into a secluded back alley. You don’t think anyone saw you arrive. Why a portal leads from a volcano to this alleyway is really beyond you, but you’ll take it.

Jake uneasily steps off your rocketboard, looking just a little dizzy. “Strider, that was quite the ride!”

After AR’s little speech about being bolder, you decide a little flirting wouldn’t hurt. After half a second of hesitation, you say, “glad it was good for you too.” You smirk at him suggestively, and watch as his delicious throat swallows down whatever words he was about to stammer out.

He manages to respond with, “you do seem to be a pro.”

John finally flies off your shoulder and flutters in between you two, looking at you incredulously. “Seriously? You’re going to flirt with him right now? Come on! We have to save Dave!”

Yeah, you know. That’s what you’re here for. You nod at him, scooping him out of the air and placing him back on your shoulder. “Best keep a low profile while we’re here,” you remind him.

John sighs, “yeah I know.”

In the interest of being inconspicuous, you hand your rocketboard to Jake, who stores it away wherever he puts his giant guns. You don’t question it.

You’ve heard details about Derse from some of the patrons of Bro’s bar over the years. They’d described this place to you and told you about the theme. Kanaya even made you some super badass Derse-themed pajamas for your birthday years ago. You decided to throw them on before you came here, and you’re not regretting it. Though you’d worn the PJ’s in lovably over the years, the soft purple moon is still on the front, and the material still blends in with the shade of the buildings. You’ll never cease to be amazed at Kanaya’s abilities to match the perfect color.

Jake had a bit more trouble finding Derse clothing on such short notice. He had to settle for wearing one of your black wife-beater t-shirts and some black cargo pants. The combo actually doesn’t look too bad on him, and you’re a little sorry you can’t take more time to appreciate it.

John decided to keep his traditional blue clothes and since he’s like a bright blue beacon when he flies around, he grudgingly agreed to stay hidden when possible in a pocket of your shirt. You feel bad for the guy though and decide it wouldn’t hurt to let him sit on your shoulder instead.

“You’ve been here before,” you murmur, leaning closer to Jake than you really need to just because. “Any idea where to go from here?”

“My guess is the castle,” he replies, squinting off into the distance. “I don’t see it from here, but once we get moving, it will be impossible to miss.”

With a nod at each other, you and Jake are silently off. Sneaking around Derse isn’t as difficult as you had thought it might be. The inhabitants are relatively simple folk, and they don’t notice your presence. You do get a bit on edge when you see people you’ve killed and sent back to Derse parading around. You’re about to round a corner when you catch Vriska’s spidery form in your peripheral view. Hastily you and Jake duck back into the alleyway you came from and wait for her to pass.

There’s no sign of the agents. For all their notoriety, they certainly make themselves scarce to the public eye. It has you just a bit concerned. You know that they must be somewhere. Waiting. Watching.

As you slink around, slowly making your way to the giant purple castle in the distance, you remember something important.

Time passes differently on Derse. As one of the many dimensions of Hell, it has hellish properties. You don’t know the exact ratio, but what may only be a day back home could be much longer for residents of Derse. It’s how all the demons you fight regain their strength so “quickly.” You wonder how old demons like Damara and Vriska actually are.

You wonder how much time has passed for Dave.

The thought has you tempted to flashstep ahead, but you don’t want to risk getting careless. And Jake is kind of leading the way.

It isn’t too long before the castle is upon you. Shadowy purple ramparts loom above the castle walls whose bricks are ridden with the same glowing neon purple as the rest of Derse. Though there are many residents of Derse entering and exiting the castle, you don’t dare go in that way. You may blend in a little, but you’re nowhere near resembling a true Dersite.

You slink around the side of the castle and scale the wall to the ramparts above. Jake appears to be a pro at scaling, and he actually beats you up to the top. There are a few short guards slowly patrolling above, but they don’t seem to be paying much attention to anything at all. You decide that their interests must be fleeting with the amount of time they spend staring at the ground, the sky above, and in general spacing out at nothing.

It isn’t hard to work your way past them. When you’re finally in the castle proper, you make your way around, sticking to the walls, and hiding in the shadows of large suits of armor when Dersites come by. Jake seems somewhat familiar with the castle, and you let him again lead the way. It somehow all feels very cliché to you, but Jake appears to be nothing short of exhilarated. His green eyes are wide and alit with an enthusiastic energy that you find infectious. Yes, tonight you will save your little bro.

A few corridors later, you find yourself in the dungeons. Curiously you peer in through the tiny windows of the wooden cell doors. Miserable creatures are all slumped in the corners, hopeless and (in some cases) lifeless. You really hope you’re not too late.

You pick up the speed and almost pass by his room after a quick glance. But his telltale pale hair draws you back. Your little bro is sitting slumped in the corner of the cell, looking very much like all the other prisoners. His shades have been knocked to the other side of the room, leaving his disturbingly blank crimson stare visible.

“Dave!!!”

You hear John’s scream, but by the time you realize what he’s about to do, you’re too late to stop him. He’s already flying through the tiny window cut into the door and into your starving incubus brother’s awaiting arms, heedless of the fact that he’s flying to his death.

John’s too small. He’s just too fucking small, and there’s no way he can possibly give Dave enough energy to live and not get himself killed in the process. If he could change his size, that might be a different story, but John can’t. He hasn’t learned yet, and Dave probably won’t even realize what he’s doing until it’s too late.

Dave really does seem delirious. His eyes are glazed over and frightfully red. Even more than usual. His arms are quivering from hunger as he holds them open, inviting John to embrace him. You know it will be an embrace of death. You’re not sure how much time has passed for him, but you’ve never seen your little bro this bad before.

It only takes an instant for John to get there. All these thoughts fly through your brain at light speed, but even though you’re a lock-picking and flash-stepping master (if you do say so yourself) you know that you’ll never be fast enough to reach Dave in time.

But in that instant it takes John to fly across the room, something happens. Something so incredible and mind blowing that you can’t react at first. Only your heart is able to do anything at all, swelling with both happiness and relief.

The tiny blue ball of light surrounding John grows. By the time he’s in Dave’s arms, he’s no longer pixie sized anymore. He’s regular human height. If he didn’t have those bright blue pixie wings, you’d never know the difference.

It takes a few more seconds before John and your bro realize what’s happened too. You see it the moment that it happens though. Dave actually pulls out of his delirium a bit in his surprise. Both their eyes are filled with disbelief, then overwhelming happiness. Their lips are together barely a second later.

You’re happy for your little bro and his boyfriend. You really are. But you also have common sense on your side, something that neither of them seem to possess right now. You quickly pick the lock to Dave’s cell and slip inside.

The look Dave gives you when you pull John away from him is murderous. You actually think he bares his fangs at you a bit, but you just shake your head ever so slightly at him. Gently, you remind him, “don’t wanna kill your boyfriend with your first kiss, now do you?”

He growls at you, lowly and predatorily, and you’re pretty sure John gasps a bit. The now-human-sized-fairy tugs against you a bit, desperate to get back into his boyfriend’s arms, but you hold him firmly in your grasp. “Don’t go to him, John. You’ve already given him enough to get going. He just needs to get his head back on straight.”

Dave growls again and flash-steps away from the wall, catching John back in his arms. He possessively pulls John to him tightly, breathing into the collar of his blue hoodie. His voice is muffled a bit by the fabric when he responds, “I can fucking control myself, Dirk. I just—I wanna hug my boyfriend.”

“Dave,” John murmurs softly, returning the embrace. It’s only a couple seconds before their lips are together again.

It’s cute, but you can sense what’s happening here. Despite Dave’s proud words, he is doing one lousy job of controlling himself right now. He’s pulling John’s energy to him at an alarming rate, and any moment now—

You catch the tiny blue fairy in your hands before he hits the ground. John’s returned to his normal pixie size, and he’s fast asleep in your palms. Carefully, you place him inside your shirt pocket, tisking at Dave, “I warned you, bro.”

Dave is frozen in place, his hands grasping the empty air where his boyfriend was just standing. His eyebrows turn upward and a look of remorse fleetingly crosses his face. “Oh fuck. Fuck I couldn’t—” his eyes turn to you imploringly, his hands reaching for your pocket. “Is he—?”

You flashstep away to the other side of the room, picking up Dave’s shades while you’re at it. “He’s sleeping, but he’s ok. You don’t get to touch him until you’re fully in control of yourself first,” you admonish him quietly.

Dave nods, swallowing the bitter medicine that you’ve given him. He gratefully accepts the shades when you hand them back to him and places them back on his face. After he dusts off his clothes, he turns back to you, sounding once again like your cocky little bro. “So you have a plan or do I have to break us all outta here?”

Getting back out of the castle is easier than getting in. At least, it’s a lot faster. Dave is less cautious about sneaking around, and when the guards catch sight of him, you all make a break for the exit. You’re through the portcullis before they can even think of lowering it. All of you tear through the streets of Derse, heedless of the Dersite’s open stares and occasional screeches of fury at you.

It gets a little seedy as Vriska finds you, attempting to trap you in her webs again. “Diiiiiiiirk Striiiiiiiider!!!” She screeches, knocking over two bystanding dersites as her mammoth spidery body turns the corner to follow you.

She may be huge, but she’s gaining on you. Vriska screams, swiping at you, her claws shearing off a few strands of your hair.

Way too close for comfort.

“Jake! Rocketboard!!” You shout, ducking as she reaches for you again.

It takes Jake less than a second to pull out your rocketboard. You all hop onboard, Jake and Dave clinging to you tightly as you ascend up into the sky. You zip easily over all the buildings and demons, avoiding their claws, tentacles and razor sharp teeth. In less than a minute, you’re back to the alley where your portal to the volcano awaits.

You’re through the portal and into the blazing heat of the volcano in record time. By the time you’re back at Bro’s lounge, you’re all a little worse for wear.

Bro’s already waiting outside, and he captures Dave in a tight hug, feeding him and murmuring something you can’t hear.

Jake has been silent the whole rocketboard trip, not that you would have heard him anyway over the rushing wind. He finally nudges you in the arm and murmurs, “is that what Bro did for you?”

You nod and add, “Bro gives the best hugs.”

Bro gives you a thumbs-up.

A minute or so later, he lets Dave go. Your little bro sheepishly comes back to you, holding his hands out expectantly. “Can I have him back now?”

“Show me your eyes,” you demand.

He tips his shades down a couple inches for you, allowing you to see his clear, completely lucid crimson eyes. You breathe a sigh of relief. He’s back in full control of himself now. Silently, you nod, gently removing a still slumbering John from your pocket and handing him over.

Dave accepts him carefully, his eyebrows again contorting with sorrow. “John, I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. John doesn’t respond, aside from sighing softly in his sleep and snuggling closer to Dave’s thumb.

Bro sends you all home a few seconds later. He looks tired. You doubt that feeding Dave helped with his exhaustion, but when you offer to help him work, he waves you off. “You’ll have plenty to do tomorrow, trust me. Get some sleep. Take Dave with you and keep an eye on him. And both of you,” Bro pauses for just a moment, making sure that he has Dave’s attention too. “Take care of each other. That goes without saying.”

You fistbump on it. It’s an unspoken promise.

And so it is that the four of you pile into your Jeep and head back to your place. At least, that’s the way you thought it was going to go.

“Wait!” Jane cries, waving her arms as she runs through the doors of the bar hastily. “Dirk, can I stay with you tonight? I don’t have a hotel room and at this hour—”

“Sure,” you say, indicated with a flick of your head to the back seat. “Hop in.”

Jake of course has to be a perfect gentleman. He quickly leaps out of your door-less Jeep, allowing Jane to ride in the front while he scoots into the back seat with Dave. You’re really not sure why, but you have a bad feeling about this development. Jane’s one of your dearest friends, and you’ve missed having time to chill with her. Having her visit for a few days shouldn’t be so bad.

Yet, somehow, you can’t shake the feeling that something is about to go terribly wrong. You push the feeling away and drive off into the night.


	7. Hope for the Heartless

**Dirk == > Let Jake comfort you**

Let Jake what?

Everyone else went to bed hours ago. You let Jane have your room and gave your beloved futon to Dave. As a result, you’ve been sitting on the office chair in your own patented Dirk Strider man-cave. You’ve been tinkering idly with Brobot’s arm and watching re-runs of The Office on the old tube TV in the corner of the room. Alone in the privacy of your shop, you heave a deep sigh and wish that your Bro’s office could have the same problems. It’d be so sweet if the only things you had to worry about were looking good (cause Striders always look good) and dealing with random office bullshit.

But no, that’s not the type of office your Bro runs. He runs the type that endangers you all every night. The type where Agents are after you.

If the Agents know where Dave lives, then there’s a good chance that they know where you live too. All night, you’ve been hyperaware of every little noise in the place. You hear the raucous couple having sex in the apartment below and the people across the hall who always seem to be moving furniture around. You’re not sure what the guy next to you does for a living, but for some reason he really seems to love elephants. Glancing at your shiny poster of Rainbow Dash on the wall, you shrug. Can’t exactly judge.

Every time someone walks down the hallway you tense, because they might be coming for you. So far, they haven’t.

You’re definitely aware that Jake has been pacing around his room the past hour. He’s even come so far as to walk down the hallway towards your Strider-cave twice, but this is the first time he’s finally decided to make his presence known.

Jake hesitantly opens the door, shutting it behind him. He only makes it a couple steps into the room before he’s already cursing about stepping on something.

You can’t help the tiny grin that tugs at your lips. “Sup, English? Why are you still awake?”

He picks his way over to you and takes a seat on a little wooden stool beside you. “I could ask you the same thing, Strider. Actually, I was going to but realized I was plumb being a daft again!”

You quirk an eyebrow up at him, and Jake continues, “You don’t have anywhere to sleep, do you, mate? We’ve right commandeered all your beds!”

You shrug, noting the strange addition of the word “commandeered” to Jake’s already eccentric vocabulary. Must have been watching Pirates of the Caribbean again. “Yeah, s’ok though. I’ve gone without sleeping before. Do it a lot, actually.”

It’s true. More often than you’d like, sleep doesn’t seem to find you. This is far from the first night that you’ve spent tinkering on your robots, and you doubt it will be the last.

“That sounds truly awful,” Jake comments, making a face. You hum noncommittally. Idly, he picks up a wrench from your worktable and turns it over in his hands. “Strider, I don’t suppose there’s anything bothering you?”

You glance over at him sidelong, your hands stilling on Brobot’s arm temporarily. “Are you pitying me, English?” you ask in an incredulous tone. You’ve unfortunately heard what Karkat has to say about pity, and while you’ll never understand exactly what it means to him, you know that you don’t want Jake English pitying you in any sense of the word.

Hastily, he holds his hands up and says, “No no! Certainly not old chum! I merely thought that you might be concerned about Agents. And I thought that perhaps— I could help out?”

“What are you getting at?” You ask slowly.

“I could take watch part of the night, so you could get some rest,” he offers gently, resting the wrench and his hands on the workbench. The small smile Jake gives you as he says the next words makes your heart want to melt. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Your hand is reaching for his before you know what you’re doing. By the time you’ve realized it, your fingers are already resting on top of his, the warmth of his hand and of his essence tickling your senses. He’s so warm and alive and you love that about him.

But you realize a second later that he’s looking at your combined hands very strangely. You’re not sure whether it’s a look of amusement, horror, or something else. Quickly, you settle for awkwardly patting his hand before returning yours to Brobot’s arm. “Thanks. But I have to do this. Bro’s counting on me to keep Dave safe.” After a moment’s reflection, you add, “to keep everyone safe, actually. I can’t sleep yet.”

It takes Jake a couple moments to respond, but when he does, his words are music to your ears. “Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind a little company while you wait?”

Jake actually gets a smile out of you. No wait. A smirk. A cool and manly Strider smirk. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good.”

Jake smiles in return, scooting closer to watch you work. For an hour or so, you listen to him chatter on about the movie you saw earlier tonight. Wow, was that really just earlier tonight? Yes. Yes it was.

The sun begins to crest over the horizon, and you know that you’ll have a while to wait before the others are up. If you listen carefully, you can tell from Jane’s even breathing that she’s fast asleep. Dave is silent as the grave, and even John’s tiny breaths are rhythmically longer than usual. They’re all fast asleep.

Jake seems aware of this too, and he clears his throat in a way that immediately draws your attention. He has something to say. Something that’s probably a little more important than his usual ramble. “Strider, I hope you don’t mind, but I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead,” you say, wondering what he could be bringing up at this hour. Knowing Jake, anything from a question about your favorite TV show (which he should know by now) to a question of whether you’ll accept his undying love (which is all too good to be true) is fair game.

“AR, that— program of your younger self that you have me talk to sometimes. You know the one I’m talking about, right?” Jake starts, his voice faltering just a bit.

You’re instantly suspicious of what AR’s said to him. If AR’s comments to you earlier in the evening are any indication, you’re about to be absolutely mortified. “Yeah,” you answer slowly.

Jake clears his throat again, and you know something is amiss. “He’s a right interesting bloke, all right. We’ve had some very riveting conversations about ponies and mechanics and the ‘so called meaning of life’ as he puts it. It’s truly remarkable that you programmed him, Strider! He’s so lifelike and real that I would swear he’s actually his own person.”

“He is,” you declare quickly.

“Yeeeees,” Jake hesitantly agrees, drawing out the word. He chews his bottom lip in a goddamned adorable way that almost distracts you enough from realizing that he’s still talking. “But the similarities between the two of you are far too many to ignore! He likes My Little Pony, you like My Little Pony—”

“You like My Little Pony,” you murmur, pointing at Jake.

“I do like My Little Pony, but that’s not my point! If you would just wait one gosh darned moment, perhaps I could find the right blooming words!” Jake sighs, exasperated. You decide to take pity on him and wait to see what he will say. Jake gives you a look, waiting to see if you’ll dare interrupt him again. When you don’t, he finally continues. “Like it or not, Strider, this AR fellow is still you. He can be a confoundedly obnoxious tin can at times, but he’s still you.”

Jake pauses longer than usual, and you’re suddenly getting a really bad feeling about all of this. You cautiously ask, “So, are you saying that two Striders are too much? You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. I’ll tell him to stop bugging you.”

“That is the exact opposite of the issue!” Jake says, and he truly does look flustered. Something about what he wants to say has him extremely worked-up. His cheeks are flushed in an aggravated and possibly embarrassed way, his eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he thinks of what to say next. Finally, he looks up at you and says, “I don’t know to say it but, in short, he’s said some things to me that—that I simply don’t have the words to describe. And if he’s truly another version of you, I have to wonder—”

You’re officially mortified. You knew you should have decommissioned AR long ago. Why the hell are you building a body for him?

Such an idiot. That’s you.

“—do you fancy me?” Jake asks quietly.

Ah, a Jakeism at its best.

Wait.

Did he just ask—?

Oh fuck he did.

Jake’s still staring at you expectantly, his eyebrows turning up ever so slightly at your silence. Oh shit you’re worrying him. But what should you say? What can you say?

You’re silent for a while. Sure, you could lie to him. You could swear up and down that you don’t feel a thing for him, and he’d probably believe you. Jake is so trusting. So honest, and good-natured, and full of hope, and damn it all if he isn’t too good for you.

Through the years people have called you a heartless bastard. You won’t deny it, you are. You’re a cold-blooded killer. You’ve even killed your friends. Worse, you’re an incubus. You’re a demon in every sense of the word. You shamelessly use people, take their energy, and steal their memories when you leave them. You don’t even give them the fucking decency to remember you exist.

Do you deserve Jake? Hell no. He’s too sweet, too kind, too soft— and you’re far too cold. Too callous. Someone like you could tear him apart and rip him to pieces so easily, without even meaning to. He could fall for an eternity into the depths of your empty heart and never hit the bottom.

You don’t want to hurt Jake. But you also don’t want to lie to him.

Slowly, you place the robot arm on the workbench and turn to meet his gaze. You know that everyone else is asleep, but you can’t help the quiet tone of your voice when you finally respond, “yeah. Yeah I do.”

“Oh,” he murmurs back. He’s silent then, for a good long time. Forever, it seems. And you have to wonder just what you’ve brought upon yourself. You hate AR right now and you swear that if this goes as poorly as you think it will, you’re going to wipe all your hard drives clean of his program, even if he does have a heart. You are going to smash AR into tiny microscopic bits. You’re going to scramble his programming until it’s impossible to ever put it back together again.

You can only rage at your computerized self for so long.

Isn’t Jake supposed to say something? You don’t think you can wait much longer.

No, that’s not true. You’ll wait a lifetime for Jake English if you have to.

—wow. You don’t know when that became true, but somehow it has. Are you, the impossibly cool and sexy Dirk Strider, really this head over heels for Jake McBumpkin English?

Yes. Yes you really are. Outside, your practiced Strider mask is in place, but inside you’re trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Finally, Jake opens his mouth. First, a long sigh comes out. His eyebrows are furrowed, and –damn it– there’s a pitying expression in his eyes as he asks, “do you feel that way because you’re—what you are?”

He can’t even say the word “incubus” without stammering? If you weren’t so nerve-wrecked yourself you’d find that adorable. Quickly, you shake your head and respond, “no. That has nothing to do with it. I _fancy_ you, Jake English, just for being who you are. I already told you, I won’t do anything unless you want it.”

“But you wouldn’t mind?” he asks. You’re really not sure what he meant by that, but you guess it has to do with sex.

“No, I wouldn’t mind,” you respond again, wondering just how much more of this drawn out awkwardness you can take. You take a deep breath, at least, a breath that’s longer than usual, and decide what the hell. It’s now or never, right? Better lay it all out for him so that he can properly make up his mind. “But if that’s something you never want, I’ll respect that. If you don’t feel the same way, I’ll respect that too, and we can go on just like before. I mean it Jake, you’re my best bud—pretty much another bro now. Whatever happens—”

Jake shushes you with a light pat on the shoulder, a short breath escaping those parted lips. Then, a shy smile curves on his lips as he tentatively reaches for your hand. His smile only widens as you thread your fingers through his, clasping your hands together. He looks up at you and says the words you’ve been waiting forever to hear. “Then let’s give it a go, shall we?”

Ok, those aren’t exactly the words you were expecting to hear. But you’ll take them.

You swallow away the awkward lump in your throat and give him a small, hesitant smile. Quietly, almost inaudibly, you breathe, “yeah. Let’s do that.”

You almost can’t believe it. After decades of being alone, you finally have a boyfriend.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Have dirty monkey sex with Jake!**

Yeah, cause that wouldn’t scare him away at all. No, much as you’d like that, you’ll wait until he’s ready.

…you really hope that’s soon.

For now, you spend the remainder of the morning pretty much the same way you spent the rest of it. Listening to Jake ramble on about movies while you work on Brobot’s arm. You’ve decided not to decommission AR after all. That really went a lot better than it had any right to.

You want to hug Jake, to hold him and kiss him and do exactly what’s written up above in bold with him. But you can’t do that just yet. You haven’t even kissed him yet. And holy hell if it isn’t the most infuriating thing ever. You held hands for a while, enjoying the fuzzy warm feelings wicking off Jake before he realized you couldn’t work on your robotics without both hands. All too quickly, he gave your hand back to you, and that was it. You haven’t touched him since.

But really, the way Jake leans over onto the bench, his enthused eyes fixed on you and his pert butt swiveling back and forth on the seat of that wooden stool, makes it hard to concentrate on anything. You’d put down Brobot’s arm, because seriously, you’re not getting anything done with Jake around, but you don’t want to give up the pretense that you’re actually working on something. You like that Jake’s staring intently at the machinery while you work, occasionally chewing on his lower lip in thought as he tries to figure out exactly what it is you’re doing.

You adore him, and you don’t ever want this moment to stop.

But before you know it, Jake is checking his watch and exclaiming, “oh my! I’d best get started on breakfast! The others will be up in no time!”

And then he’s gone. Off to make breakfast and leaving you alone in your workshop.

Kissless. Sexless. Jakeless.

Sigh.

You do manage to get a little work done now that Jake’s fantastic rump isn’t distracting you anymore. You don’t let your guard down, though. And even though you don’t sense any sign of the Agents around your place, you do sense when Jane wakes up and paces into the kitchen to help Jake with the cooking.

You’ll never say a bad thing about Jake’s cooking. Even if it sucked, you love the guy too much to break his little heart. But Jane’s cooking is in a class of its own. You know that whenever she offers to bake, nothing short of spectacular will do.

It isn’t until a frying pan seems to hit the stove extra hard that you finally tune into whatever they’d been saying. Your hands still as you focus on their words, picking up any little change in tone or inflection.

“You’re not mad, are you Jane?” Jake asks, his voice tentative and hesitant.

“Mad? Who me? No! Certainly not!!!” Jane exclaims, a little overeagerly. “If you want to pursue that course of action then you should do it!!! Absolutely!!!”

The sound of the oven door being slammed just a little harder than usual echoes to your workshop. Jane is clearly not having it. Whatever it is.

“Oh good, you know Jane I was so worried that you wouldn’t understand and would be upset,” Jake’s voice sounds relieved.

“That’s me!!! The queen of understanding and not being upset!!! Yep!!!” Jane exclaims, laughing loudly. “You should totally go in there right now and make out with Dirk and have lots and LOTS of babies!!!”

Oh, so that’s the problem. You should have realized that you might have competition for Jake’s affections, but technically he’s the one that asked you, isn’t he? You feel bad, but you can’t exactly go apologize to Jane for something that you didn’t do. Not that you’d want to anyway. If you had to live without Jake, you suppose you would. You did for quite some time before he was even in the picture, but you wouldn’t enjoy it.

“Oh, come off it, you know that’s not possible!” Jake laughs a little, a genuine light laugh that makes your heart flutter. You really hope he was talking about the babies being impossible and not the making out. Jake’s voice grows a little quieter as he says, “Jane, thank you for being so understanding. I know things didn’t work out between us, but I knew that you would be rational and forgiving. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

They were an item? The pieces suddenly fall into place. The reason they were so casual with each other yesterday, how they know each other. Jake and his goddamn suggestively waggling eyebrows.

But whatever happened in the past, it’s apparently over now. You’re not sure why things didn’t work out between them. Perhaps you’ll find out someday. But, like everything else about Jake, you’ll wait until he’s ready to tell you.

You’d say that you’re an expert on the sound of smooches by now. And the short smooch you hear next is definitely one on the cheek.

Jane’s voice is a little quieter, with less enthusiasm, as she responds, “y-yeah. Of course, Jake.”

The sounds of baking again reclaim the apartment. They do talk some more, but it’s nothing heavy like before.

What are Jane’s plans while she’s here? Cleaning up Bro’s mess.

How much longer is Jane in town? Until the mess is cleaned.

You decide you don’t care about their conversation anymore. Instead, you immerse yourself back in your work. It isn’t long before Jake is at your door, his award winning grin in place as he says, “ready for some breakfast, Strider?”

His smile. Your boyfriend’s smile. Damn, it’s been way too long since you’ve been able to say that. The warm fuzzy thought hits you, and you’re ashamed to say it goes straight south. You can’t help it. You’re an incubus, and you want him. But you’ll wait.

Instead, you arch an eyebrow at him. “That sounded like a pretty heavy conversation you were having.”

“What? Oh heavens, you heard that?” Jake stammers, a light flush rising to his cheeks. “Well, I suppose I owe you an explanation, then.”

“Think I got the gist of it,” you say, knowing that Jane must be listening to every word of your conversation like you were listening to theirs. Setting down your work, you wordlessly follow Jake into the kitchen.

As usual, Jane has proven herself to be a culinary master. Stacks of pancakes and waffles pile on the table into next week. Blueberry muffins, scrambled eggs, bacon, and hashed browns garnish every plate around the table. You take a moment to appreciate the freshly squeezed orange juice and wonder where the oranges came from. In the center of the table is a large homemade coffee strudel, filled with fruit and decorated with sweet cheese crumbles on top.

You can’t believe all that came out of your kitchen. “You’ve outdone yourself, Jane,” you tell her.

Jane had been avoiding eye-contact with you at first, but she can’t resist a compliment to her baking. She finally flashes you a small smile and says, “thank you. Better eat it before it gets cold!”

The three of you dig in, and it does taste just as good as it looks. Jane Crocker is a baking genius. You let her know. She reveals that she’s more than willing to teach you a thing or two. You politely decline.

A few minutes or so into breakfast, you realize that your younger bro is definitely awake on your futon and just not moving. He’s probably been awake since Jake and Jane’s little baking war started. “Dave, get your skinny butt over here,” you call to him. “Bro’ll have my neck if you lose any more weight.”

“I’m not hungry,” Dave retorts angstfully. You know he’s lying.

“You’ll insult Jane if you don’t eat her food,” you say with a note of warning in your voice. A warning that you’ll kick his sorry ass if he insults your friend.

Dave sighs and slowly drags his feet over to the table. When he slumps into the seat beside you, you realize why he is so moody this morning.

“He’s still sleeping, huh?” you ask, eyeing the peacefully resting fairy in Dave’s hands.

“Yeah,” he responds, and you swear you see his eyes tear up a bit behind his sunglasses. “I’m so fucking worried about him! What if he never wakes up? It’ll all be my fault!”

“Yeah, it will,” you agree. “But for what it’s worth, I’ve seen people come out of worse.”

Dave flicks his gaze up at you, with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Really?”

“Really. But you don’t need to take my word on it. We have the life expert sitting at the table,” you say, inclining your head slightly toward Jane.

Jane had been wallowing silently in her own thoughts through the beginning of breakfast, as you all had been, but she suddenly perks up at her name. “Hmm?”

Usually Dave tries to play it cool, but it’s amazing how fast he drops his cool-kid persona for John. You know that the others have to pick up the worry in his tone when he abruptly asks her, “can you tell me if he’s gonna be ok? He’s not gonna die is he???”

Jane seems caught off-guard at first, but she regains her calm quickly and levels an even and sympathetic gaze at Dave. Gently holding out her hands, she says, “let’s have a look at him, shall we?”

Slowly, hesitantly, Dave lowers John’s sleeping form into her hands. John frowns at the change of hands and turns over, mumbling something lightly. Dave presses his lips together into a fine line, the tight concern overflowing into his words as he quickly prompts, “well?”

Jane immediately smiles and shakes her head. “He’s going to be just fine. Little guy’s just plumb tuckered out!”

In his sleep, John snorts lightly and murmurs, “not little…”

The relief that washes over your little bro is palpable. His sigh is deep and thankful as he gratefully takes John back into his hands.

“Thanks Jane,” you murmur, knowing that she’s given Dave immense peace of mind.

“Anytime, really. Glad to be of help!” she says cheerfully. This time you know that the smile on her face is genuine.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Go to work**

It’s strange seeing the place so empty. It hasn’t been this quiet since Bro first started the business. You don’t exactly blame people for not wanting to come after what happened last night. If they didn’t have to be here, you doubt that all your Bro’s employees would even have shown up.

The bar is quiet. Latula’s laying with her back across the bar top, her fashionable red-tinted glasses hang loosely off her head as she faces the door upside-down. She whistles as you all walk in. “Oh yeaaah! Sexy Striders come to play with this hot mama? Please say yes. I’m sooooo bored!”

Jane boops Latula’s nose with an index finger, making the other girl squint. “Not on my watch! These boys have a lot of work to do tonight.”

“Not here, they don’t. Look around, the only patron’s Cronus, and I’m pretty sure Bro sliced him into ribbons last night. Not getting any new info from him. I’m not sure what keeps him coming back here,” she says, idly waving in the direction of the other end of the bar, where Kankri is pouring gin into a glass of Diet Dr. Pepper for their single patron. Latula frowns and shakes her head. “it’s totally not Kankri’s bartending skills. Seriously, how does he drink that swill every night?”

“Got me,” you murmur, but deep down you think you know the truth. You think it’s painfully obvious to everyone. People do the strangest things for love.

With that thought on the mind, you glance back to where your bro is still cradling John’s sleeping form. He even bundled the little guy up in one of your orange hand towels keep him warm. It’s cute to the point of nausea.

You pass by Kankri, who nods your way but doesn’t stop his long rambling lecture on safety and efficacy in the workplace. Cronus takes a sip of his drink, makes a slightly disgusted expression, and forces an affirmative hum.

Kanaya is sitting at one of the high top tables, looking quite well again. As well as a vampire can look, you suppose. She rests her elbow on the table and her head in her hand. She’s idly scrolling through something on her cell phone, but her eyes light up when you walk by. “Am I correct in hearing that you wore the pajamas I made you last night?”

“Yep,” you agree. “Super comfy. The purple hue still matches Derse.”

A tiny smile graces her dark lips. “Oh good. I was a little concerned that it might fade into a deep lilac with the passing of time.”

“Any word from Rose?” Dave asks, leaning in to look at her phone. He immediately reels back a step. “Geez Kanaya! Seriously, at work? You’re gonna blind me.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him and gives him a moderately toothy grin. “You did not have to look. And Dave, you spoke with Rose merely yesterday.”

“I did?” he seems bewildered for a moment, then quickly pulls out of it. “Yeah, guess it’s only been a day for you guys.”

“How long were you trapped in Derse?” Jane asks, eyeing him sympathetically.

“9 days,” Dave responds quickly. “Not that I was keeping track or anything. Nope. Definitely not me.”

Ouch. You didn’t realize it had been that long for your little bro. “Sorry dude. Came as fast as I could,” you find yourself mumbling, wondering if there was a way you could have made it there even quicker.

“I know. It’s cool,” Dave says, waving it off.

You decide not to dwell on it too long. Instead, you move along to the back lounge area where Terezi is shooting a lonely game of pool by herself. If you hadn’t seen her sliced in half yesterday, you’d never have known she was ever hurt. Jane works amazing miracles.

Seeing Dave, Terezi perks up. “Cool kid! You’re not dead! Come play some pool with me. Bet I can beat you with my eyes closed!”

You don’t doubt that it’s true. Terezi’s blind, but she seems to have an uncanny ability to tell exactly where things are. As Jake realized the hard way, her pool skills are rivaled by very few.

“Sorry Rezi, my hands are full,” Dave shrugs at her.

She opens her mouth widely, showing off all her sharp teeth, then closes it, sniffing in Dave’s direction. “You do have you hands full. Full of John. He smells different. What did you do to him? Did you finally pop his deliciously red cherry?”

You can sense Dave’s eyeroll. “No. Don’t get me started.”

You almost make it to your Bro’s office, but Karkat leaps out of the doorway to his office, blocking the hallway. You sigh. “What do you want?”

“I want you to listen to me for one Goddamned minute!” He shouts in a somehow more quiet than usual way.

“Of course you do,” you sigh. “What’s going on, Vantas?”

“So you remember that rescue mission yesterday? Yeah of course you’d be a bigger idiot than I thought if you forgot that. Well turns out, someone noticed your presence in Derse. You got a couple tailgaters.”

“A couple?”

“The Nitrams. Party criminals,” Bro explains, appearing suddenly behind Karkat and making the shorter troll jump.

“Party dudes? Who cares about them?” Dave asks, his apathy for the night’s fight palpable in the air.

Bro takes one look at a still far too skinny Dave holding the sleeping bundled up John and says. “Not you. You’re staying put right here tonight. There’s Loch Ness Monster blood in the fridge with your name on it. When you finish that, you can play pool with Terezi.”

“Yay!” Terezi whoops from the other room.

Dave is clearly disgusted, but before he can get a word out, Bro gives him a look. And even though he’s wearing his shades, everyone knows exactly what that means. Dave heaves a sigh and slowly shuffles back to Bro’s office, grumbling the whole way.

Bro then turns to you. “Since they’re out of the game, that means it’s your job to bring in the Nitrams.”

“Bring them in?” you ask, arching an eyebrow in question. “Don’t people literally die from partying with them for weeks without sleeping?”

“Yeah, but Rufioh and Tavros aren’t actually bad. You know that. They just need to know that maybe that’s kosher in Derse, but that shit ain’t flying around here,” Bro explains. “Besides, if there’s one thing they do know, it’s how to get a party started. That’s something we could use around here right about now.”

You don’t disagree.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Party!!!**

That is EXACTLY what’s happening in the giant second floor flat in the old warehouse district. You see multicolored strobelights flashing from behind the glass window panes and can feel the bass pumping halfway down the street. You listen. Pretty sick beats. Not as sick as yours, but you dig it.

“Oh good heavens, am I dressed appropriately for a party?” Jake suddenly asks, catching you by surprise. He’s dressed in his usual khaki shorts and an open green button down shirt. Today the t-shirt he is sporting underneath is the My Little Pony shirt he bought to match yours. Pinkie Pie. Fitting, you think.

You throw him a smirk, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “If you want, we can have our own party and invite your pants to come down.”

Jake flushes furiously and stammers, “N-now see here, Strider! Don’t you think that’s a bit uncouth?”

You don’t. Admittedly, the pick-up line is a lame one you found online somewhere, but the look Jake gives you is completely worth it.

It’s worth Jane’s attention-grabbing throat-clearing too. Now that everyone is alive and well again, there’s surprisingly little for Jane to do back at the office. So, she’s come along with you too. She’s still wearing her jean skirt, but she’s thrown on a red batter-witch inspired shirt with flaring short sleeves and an interesting neck line that mimics the forks of the witch’s spear. On anyone else you’d think it was tacky, but Jane wears it well. “Guys, enough flirting. Don’t we have a job to do?”

Hmm. That’s the second person to admonish you for that in two days now. Maybe you should tone it down a bit?

One glance at Jake’s vivid green eyes, the dusting of a flush on his cheeks, and shy little grin that shows off his front teeth, and you know that you’ll never stop.

Boyfriend. You haven’t kissed him yet. You’ve barely held hands, but he’s your boyfriend! The thought leaves you giddier than you’re willing to admit to anybody, much less to yourself.

But Jane is right. You do have work to do. And so, dutifully, you walk up the metal staircase and ascend to the party above.

The room is one giant dance rave. More bodies than you can count full of people jumping, drinking, dancing, shouting, laughing, and even sexing—it’s enough to get the incubus in you very very distracted. For a moment, you just stand there, taking it all in. You haven’t felt this jazzed in a while, high off the energy in the room. You love it.

You see why the Nitrams don’t ever want the party to stop.

It pulls at you, and you want nothing more than to jump in and feed off all the delicious energy around you. It’s intoxicating, addicting, and you remind yourself that you’ve fallen victim to the Nitram’s party fever before. When you were younger, Bro had to drag you away from Rufio’s parties kicking and screaming on more than one occasion. You were such a little shit.

You remind yourself and you won’t let yourself get pulled in.

You move into the crowd, but you won’t fall victim to the staccato peaks of energy striking you from every direction and all the bodies dancing and writhing around you and pulling you into their warmth of arms and laughter and the pumping bass beats that you can’t help but move in time to and the people screaming in delight all around you and—

-ider

—and the soft warmth of their skin all around you, assaulting you, making your head spin with giddy energy and you haven’t felt this warm and this alive in so long—

“Strider!” Jake’s grabbing you by the shoulders, and the look of concern in his eyes would be absolutely adorable if it wasn’t aimed at you. You don’t ever want him to look like that. You want him to smile and laugh and feel just as happy as you do right now.

So you kiss him.

There’s nothing special to it. No build up. You just lean in and do it.

Jake stiffens, his lips slightly parted in surprise as you capture first his top then bottom lip between yours, sucking gently before pulling back. You want him. You want him so badly right now and you’re not sure why now and not another time, but you can’t stop. You’re already pulling down your shades just a bit, catching his bright green gaze within yours.

_**You’re mine.** _

He takes a sharp, stifled breath, and his body swoons into your awaiting arms, reacting to your not so gentle mental nudge. You pull him close to you, feeling the outline of his body next to yours, the bulky muscles of someone who’s had his share of physical activity and the brightest viridian energy you’ve ever tasted. You kiss him again, and this time, his lips form to yours slowly but eagerly.

You think Jake wants this. He agreed to be your boyfriend, right? So you think this is something he would want to do, but you know he couldn’t fight back even if he wanted to. It’s a trick Bro taught you long ago. He won’t even remember this if you don’t want him to, but you do. You do want him to remember your feather light touches at the nape of his neck, your warm lips on his pulling his energy ever so slightly, just enough to get a taste, your fingers curling into his hair, yanking and bringing him to you—

“What are you doing?!”

Suddenly, Jake’s being ripped away from you, and you scowl at the thing that dared come in between the two of you.

“Dirk? What—why are you looking at me like that?” The offending creature asks.

You growl at it, reaching behind you for the hilt of your katana. Your nemesis gasps and looks positively frightened. Good. It should know better than to get between you and your beloved.

“Get ahold of yourself!!” It screams at you again, not that it will do any good. You’re ready to draw your blade and soon—

“DIRK!!!” It hits you with its open palm, striking you with a terrible feeling that you can only describe as life, and you reel to the side, your hands finding the cement floor. For just a second, you swear that you feel your heart beat, a horrible loud thump that echoes in the hollow walls of your chest. Everything pulses, your vision shifts, and a burning tingling sensation runs to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Suddenly everything is on fire. Your hands, your head, your chest, your feet, everything. Flames flames. Horrible flames.

An instant later, before you can even think about screaming, it’s over. Your heart is still in your chest once again. The pain fades away and the world sharpens a bit around you. You see your hands clearly, keeping you off the floor littered with gum wrappers, crumbs, dirt, and mysterious liquids you’d rather not identify.

You pick yourself off the cement and finally see Jane standing in front of you, her hand glowing with divine energy, raised and ready to strike again. You cringe at the brightness and slide your shades firmly back into place. “Jane?”

She lets out a deep breath, visibly relieved, and lowers her hand. Rapidly, she exhales, “OhThankGod. I thought I was going to have to smack you again.”

“Did you hit me with life magic?” you ask, feeling the destructive sting still on your cheek.

“Yeah,” she admits, looking both flustered and upset. “I didn’t have a choice, Dirk. You looked like you were going to eat me. And Jake.”

Suddenly, you remember what you did to Jake and glance over at him quickly. His body slouches limply, his eyes are a little droopy, and he still seems really out of it. You wince. It’s your fault he’s like this. You haven’t been dating a day and already you’ve hit him with some of the strongest suggestion you possess.

Worst boyfriend. That’s you.

“Hey, English, get it together man,” you say softly, too quietly to be heard in this place, and reach out for him. Ever so gently, you tip his chin up and lower your shades a bit, looking into his hazy green eyes.

_**Yours. Be you, Jake.** _

The suggestion hits him instantly. He snaps to alertness, looking at you with a strange mix of bewilderment and shock. “—Strider?” he asks, gazing at you with impossibly large emerald eyes.

You didn’t take his memory from him. You’re starting to wish you had.

There’s so much you want to say to him, to explain to him, but you’ll have to talk to him about it later. This partying crowd is giving you a delightfully heady feeling, and you don’t dare lose your focus again. Jane might not be so forgiving next time.

So instead, you offer him a simple, apologetic rub on the shoulder, and get back to your job. Searching around the room, it’s easy to find the Nitrams. Their outrageously spiked hair stands out in the crowd. Rufioh hasn’t bothered to put away his large multicolored wings, and they beat in time to the music while Tavros headbangs ridiculously beside him. Tavros seems to have learned to use his mechanical legs quite well, and he even busts out a breakdancing move or two, drawing applause from the crowds around them.

You think that you remember Bro saying that the Nitrams are distant descendents from satyrs, but you’re really not sure how that works at all. You suppose that their horns are the only part that really carried over. Rather than being obsessed with sex, which you and your bros definitely have covered, the Nitrams are obsessed with a good party. Judging from the wild crowd, they definitely know how to throw it down.

To stay that the Nitrams stick out would be an understatement. Rufioh and Tavros draw and command the attention of others without even trying. But, even though they look so obviously otherworldly, nobody ever notices. It’s part of their ability. Not only can the Nitrams get a party started like no other, but they are adept at making people turn a blind eye to their differences.

Rufioh could fly around the park in the middle of the city on a bright sunny day and nobody would ever question it. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him do it before.

“Heeeeey! Strider!” Rufioh drawls, offering you a fist bump when you get to him. “That shit you pulled yesterday was so dope!”

You and Rufioh go way back. Not as far back as Rufioh and Bro, but you still remember him being around when you grew up. He fed you, and not in the same way Bro fed you. Rufioh was an excellent “sensei,” as Bro put it. He’s the one that made sure you knew what you were doing with other guys. Bro enlisted his help to teach you the ins and outs of how to be a good incubus.

Despite what you did together, it was always strangely platonic. Rufioh was a good friend and a very considerate lover. You did call him your boyfriend for a while, but you never felt the same pull toward him that you feel with Jake. Though it was never anything serious, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed when Rufioh decided to go back to Derse.

“Yeah, couldn’t let my little bro rot away in prison,” you explain. “Can’t let you keep doing this either. You remember that people need to sleep, right?”

Rufioh snaps his fingers, closing his eyes and exhaling like he just took a hit off a blunt, and shakes his head ever so slightly. “Ooooh, yeah that’s right. Human beings. Dirk, your memory is the shit!”

You shrug. “Lived with them for decades now.”

Tavros finally perks up and stutters, “does uhh—does that mean we have to go back to uhh—to Derse?”

“Negative,” you say with a small shake of your head. “Bro wants you to get a party started at his place.”

Rufioh instantly brightens. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?” He grins lazily and widely. “This shit is gonna be so dope!”

“Gotta cut the power here first,” you remind him.

Rufioh winks and points to you, “you got it.”

Instantly, the lights turn off, the music stops, and all the raving people fall to the floor asleep. Quickly you survey the scene and nod. They’ll all be fine, but you don’t envy the hangovers they’ll have in the morning.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Ignore Jake’s accusing stares**

Oh you do. The entire ride back, Rufioh and Tavros gab on in the back seat of your Jeep about how much things have changed here. About how dope this place is and how lame Derse has become. Jake lets Jane sit in the front again, so he’s sandwiched between the Nitrams, politely listening to them. He doesn’t say a word, but the hurt little glances you catch from the rear-view mirror speak volumes.

When you get back to Bro’s lounge, you pull up long enough for the Nitrams to get out. You hear Rufioh drawl in his chill way, “Broooo!” and you watch them fistbump. It only takes one questionable glance from Bro for you to peel away back down the street.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Take a legendary infinite shower**

Your home isn’t far away, and as soon as you’re back, you immediately hop into the shower. Nevermind that you already took one tonight.

You’re not sure how long you’re in there. You kind of don’t want to think about the passage of time or anything at all right now. You can’t believe what you did to Jake, and you wonder if he’ll ever forgive you.

Sometime later, you hear the bathroom door quietly open and close.

“Dirk?”

It’s Jane’s voice.

“Dirk?” she tries again.

“Yeah?” you offer.

“You want to talk?” she asks.

“Not really,” you mumble, shampooing your hair for probably the fifth time.

“Too bad.” You were afraid she was going to say that. Jane sighs and it sounds like she’s sitting down on the closed cover of the toilet seat. “Jake’s asleep already, so he won’t hear what we say. Look, I know you’re not proud of tonight. I’m not either. I’m… sorry I hit you with that life spell.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, you take your time rinsing the shampoo out of your hair. After a few seconds, Jane must take it as her cue to continue.

“I knew how dangerous that could have been for you, but I did it anyway. For what it’s worth, I’m glad the only thing it did was bruise your cheek a bit,” she says slowly, uneasily.

It did? You didn’t even notice. You touch your cheek, noting that the tingly holy charge is still there. Again, you don’t say anything, and she continues.

“Dirk, it could have killed you! I know you’re technically already dead, but that could have been it! And I did it all because I saw you kissing Jake,” she hesitates for a few moments. You think you know where she’s going with this conversation, and you aren’t going to stop her. “I was really jealous. But that’s not an excuse to do what I did.”

“No, you were in the right,” you finally sigh back. “I wasn’t myself. I really could have hurt you both. You did what had to be done.”

The following silence is so long that you wonder if she managed to sneak out of the bathroom without you realizing it. Eventually, a small sigh reaches your ears, and you know she’s still around.

“Take care of him,” Jane finally murmurs. “Jake’s hurting right now. He has been for a long time.”

He has?

She continues before you can speak, “talk to him about it, and figure it out together. I know you can.”

You turn off the shower, your fingers stilling on the shower lever. The light sound of water droplets dripping off your body and spattering onto the floor fill the air, almost loud enough to mask your softly voiced question. “What do you mean ‘he’s hurting’?” you ask quietly.

She shakes her head so hard that you hear the sound of her rustling hair. “That’s not my story to tell. You’ll have to ask him.”

“What—?”

“Look, I’ve already said too much,” she sighs, and you would bet anything that she’s been crying. “I’m done talking about all this. I always knew that there wasn’t a place for Jake in my life, and that I couldn’t fix his problems. But maybe you can. I really hope you can.”

“Jane—”

“I don’t want to lose him like Roxy,” she murmurs quietly, almost too softly to be heard over the running water.

But you do hear her, and instantly you’re accosted with memories of Roxy’s death. You’re tempted to crawl into that dark part of your brain and escape into a wonderland filled with mathematics and completely devoid of problems. But you can’t. You owe it to Jane to stay here with her.

You realize that you’ve never really talked to Jane about it all since it happened.

You haven’t talked to Jane.

Suddenly, you realize what a selfish idiot you’ve been by avoiding her all these months. You buried the pain of Roxy’s death inside you and shut out everything that reminded you of her. You shut out Jane. And you never once thought about how she must have felt about that.

Jane’s been just as alone as you. Possibly more. Jane never talked about it, but you know that she was closer to Roxy than a sister.

Slowly, you slide down the side tiles of the shower until you’re sitting on the ground, letting the last couple droplets of water fall on top of you. “There wasn’t anything you could do about it,” you finally murmur back.

“Yes there was!” Jane insists. “I was supposed to visit that weekend, and if I hadn’t been stupid and taken that assignment on the other side of the fucking world, then I could have been there! I could have been in time—”

“You’re blaming yourself,” you interject. “Don’t do that. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I was there with her when it happened. I should have been able to stop it.”

Jane is silent for a while. Once again, you wonder if she somehow snuck out on you. Finally, you hear her voice, quiet and hesitant as she says, “Dirk…?”

You clench your teeth, instinctively bracing yourself. Here it comes. Here it fucking comes.

Jane’s voice is quiet, and it cracks when she asks, “what happened that night?”

You do not want to get into this. Not now. Not ever. You don’t ever want to relive what happened that night. Had anyone else asked, you’d have brushed them off like it was nothing. Had Jane asked just yesterday, you would have done the same.

But something’s changed now. There’s something so very vulnerable in her voice, so out of place with everything that you associate with Jane Crocker. And you suddenly realize a terrible truth. You’ve deeply wronged one of your best friends twice now.

Twice, you’ve taken away Jane’s love.

Such a selfish bastard. That’s you.

Slowly, you slide the shower door open just enough to grab the towel off the bar attached to the shower door. After just a cursory 2 second dry-off, you throw the towel on top of your sensitive bits (not because you give a damn what Jane sees, but because you know it would make her uncomfortable.)

You know that you look like a hot mess right now, and for once in Strider history, you really don’t care. Your hair is in your eyes, and you feel several strands in the back sticking up awkwardly from the short toweling. No shades, no ironic clothes. You’re just you. Plain and simple you, with nothing to hide what a godawful demon you are.

Hesitantly, you slide open the door the rest of the way.

Sitting unceremoniously on the closed toilet seat, her eyes reddened and puffy from crying, is one Jane Crocker. She’s changed into light blue PJs sometime during the couple hours you’ve been in here, and in her hand is a wad of tissues that you suspect has been recently used. Sure enough, she rubs her nose with it and sniffles loudly before managing to say, “you look different without the sunglasses.”

You realize that this is the first time Jane’s seen you without your shades. Like Jake, she doesn’t seem overly shocked by your eye color. Damn. And here you’d thought your orange eyes were pretty cool.

“Yeah,” you agree. You hesitate for just a second longer before offering, “if you really want to know about that night, I’ll tell you.”

Jane seriously seems to think it over for a while. She stares quite intently at your sink, and you know it’s not that interesting. Finally, she returns her light blue eyes to you and puts on a firm and determined face. “Yes, I think I would like to know.”

You sigh out a long breath and then swallow. “Ok.”

So you tell her. You tell Jane about how you were up against something you couldn’t beat. About how you were dying. About how Roxy single-handedly saved the world and then saved you.

About how she gave her life to do both.

By the end of your story, Jane’s in tears again.

“Her death was both heroic and just,” you finish, swallowing away a lump that had formed in your throat. “And then she was gone. Before I could even call you, see if you could get here fast enough, she was gone.”

“What do you mean she was gone?” Jane asks, furrowing her brows then blowing her nose.

“She vanished,” you say, shrugging. “I guess it’s a pixie thing?”

Slowly, Jane’s eyes widen, and you can see the bloodshot redness in the whites of her eyes from all her tears. “No, that’s most certainly not a pixie thing! Living things don’t disappear when they die. People don’t disappear when they die. Pixies don’t either. Disappearing into a cloud of dust is something undead things do, like vampires and incubi like you.”

It’s your turn to slowly furrow your brows. You hadn’t thought of that. Why didn’t you think of that? “No, she wasn’t dusted. She disappeared. As in, she vanished. No dust. Are you sure that’s not what pixies do?”

“Ask John when he wakes up if you don’t believe me,” Jane says confidently. She squeezes her eyes shut for a couple seconds and murmurs, “oh God oh God, I know this means something, but I forgot what it means! I’ll have to look into it when I get back home.”

“Let me know what you find,” you say, very curious yourself.

“I will,” she agrees.

Silence falls between you both again. You’re suddenly acutely aware that you’re sitting mostly naked on your shower floor and that Jane’s used up half a roll of toilet paper blowing her nose.

“So, about Jake,” Jane begins awkwardly. “I feel like I kind of owe you an explanation.”

“You really don’t have to—” you attempt to say.

“Yes, I do,” she interrupts. “We dated a while ago. Before I knew you. It just didn’t work out between us. I broke it off, but it hurt. It still does a little, which is why I get jealous sometimes.”

“Why didn’t it work?” you ask, mostly because you want to be a good friend to her but also because you’re curious yourself.

“Jake is—eccentric. I’m sure you’ve realized that by now. It’s part of what I loved about him,” Jane murmurs. “But behind all of that, there’s more. There’s a story he told me a long time ago. One he made me promise never to repeat.”

“Hmm,” you murmur noncommittally.

“Dirk, I want to tell you. I want to tell you so badly, but I promised him, and I’m so sorry, I just can’t—” she rambles in a very un-Jane-like way.

“It’s ok,” you reassure her, ceasing her rambling. “I’m sure he’ll tell me someday.”

“He probably will,” she agrees, her eyes shifting around uncomfortably. “When he told me, I knew I couldn’t fix him. I couldn’t help him. But maybe you can.”

You quirk an eyebrow up in interest. “You’re telling me there’s something the all-mighty Jane Crocker couldn’t handle?”

She laughs one soft and bitter laugh, “yes. And his name is Jake English.”

You don’t say anything else, and Jane looks increasingly uncomfortable sitting on your toilet. After blowing her nose one last time, she tosses the wad of tissues into your wastebasket. “Thanks for this talk, Dirk. I think I needed that. Thank you for telling me about—what happened.”

Slowly, you dip your head, nodding. “Anytime, Jane. I’ll try to be online more, but call me anytime. Or tell AR to pester me. He lives in my shades.”

She smiles, a soft and sad smile, and quietly says, “I will. Look, I probably shouldn’t stick around. Bro doesn’t need me anymore anyway. I’ll stay tonight, but tomorrow I’m headed back home.”

You nod again in agreement. You’d feel awkward as hell staying in your place too if you were her.

Jane stands up and walks the couple paces to the door. Resting her hand on the doorknob, she says quietly, “whatever happens, I know that you’ll do the right thing. I trust you, Dirk.”

She quietly leaves the bathroom.

You sit alone in the shower with your own thoughts for another hour before you slink quietly to the futon and fall asleep.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Wake up**

Jane’s gone when you get up the following day. She left behind a stack of scones as a parting gift. It’s the first time you haven’t wanted to eat Jane’s cooking.

You’ve got some time before you have to head to work, and you reflect on how it was probably stupid to sleep when you don’t know if the agents are coming after you or not. But at this point, you don’t really care. Dave’s safe with Bro, you imagine, and the only one you’re really responsible for right now is yourself. Quite frankly, you are so pissed off at yourself that you don’t care if the agents come for you or not.

You’re in this distraught state when Jake finally stumbles from his room, sitting in a chair beside you and eyeing the blueberry scones in a sad and guilty way. You sit in silence for a moment before he clears his throat awkwardly and murmurs, “Strider, mate, we have to talk.”

“I know,” you sigh. You’re getting awfully tired of these talks. First Jane, and now Jake. What more will the cruel world throw at you? “I’m sorry Jake.”

Jake looks at you with bewilderment. “You’re sorry? Whatever for? I should be the sorry one!”

You stare at him through your shades, just as perplexed as him. “What?”

He looks down at his hands, a light flush of embarrassment on his cheeks as he stammers out the most backwards line of reasoning you think you’ve ever heard. “I asked you to be my boyfriend, and then I couldn’t even work up the nerve to smooch you. All night I gabbed on about films in the theater and you listened to me patiently. I couldn’t do it, Strider. And then you went and smooched me and I was nothing but a cold fish!”

“Jake, what’re you goin’ on about?” you ask, the texture of your voice thickening into an unfortunate Texan accent. You swallow a bit of your own spit, determined to put that shit away.

“You may not know this, but I don’t have a lot of experience in this area,” Jake murmurs, the flush on his cheeks deepening as he casts a shy little glance at you. He hesitates a moment before he finally says, “you’re my first boyfriend, Dirk.”

You really should have guessed that sooner. And now that you know that, you feel even worse about manipulating him last night. Clearly he doesn’t seem to remember it that way. You could very easily pass it off as nothing, but you know that the guilt would eat you alive. Or undead. Whatever.

And holy shit. Did he just call you Dirk? Not Strider. Not mate. Not old bean or whatever the fuck else he says.

Yes, he did. And though it seems silly to you, you know that it means something to Jake. It’s special, and it touches you in a warm way that almost brings a smile to your face. But you don’t smile, because this is serious time. This is the real deal.

You want to be honest with Jake. And for that very reason you say, “I have to tell you something. You’ve got it backwards. I’m the one at fault.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jake asks, a look of confusion again on his face.

“I can manipulate people.” Slowly, you reach up and pull your shades off your face, truly showing Jake your orange eyes for the first time. You squint a bit in the fading sunlight, but you’ll bear through it for him. “When I make eye-contact with people, I can make them do things,” you explain reluctantly.

Jake is silent, his eyes widening as he stares into yours.

“I made you kiss me yesterday. And if Jane hadn’t stopped me, I don’t know what else I would have made you do,” you admit, feeling the shame and guilt clawing through you, ready to devour you whole. “Jake, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I—”

“Strider,” he cuts you off, pressing a hand to your lips. “You talk entirely too much.”

In any other circumstance, you’d find that line horribly hypocritical and beautifully ironic coming from his lips. But his hand slides tenderly to rest on your cheek, and when he leans forward his lips are suddenly on yours.

You may be Jake’s first boyfriend, but the man can kiss. It’s beautiful and sweet, and it lingers like the warmth of the sun on a patch of wild clover. When he pulls away from you, there’s nothing but fond tenderness in his viridian eyes.

“You don’t care about what I did?” You ask, daring to bring the subject back up.

Jake sighs softly, threading his fingers through the hairs on the back of your head in a way that feels too nice to tell him to stop. “It was decently daft of you, but it is something I wanted to do. No harm done.” He pauses, averting his gaze briefly in thought before flicking it back to you. “But next time, perhaps let me do it myself? I’d hate it if every romantic part of our relationship had to be through your manipulation. There’s no mangrit in that!”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you agree. A smile slowly works its way onto your face, and you’re powerless to stop it. You’re just so fucking pathetically happy right now.

Jake is yours. All on his own. He’s yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Long chapter is long. But it didn't feel right truncating it into two parts, so there you go! Hope you liked this chapter! It's the start of many more fluffy things to come.


	8. Sloppy Makeouts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Dirk is an incubus. More than sloppy makeouts happen in this chapter. Note the change in the rating of this story. Read at your own risk!

 

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Sloppy Makeouts!**

You’d like to spend the whole night with Jake on top of you, kissing and cuddling, but you do have responsibility.  It’s with the deepest reluctance that you pull yourself away from him and remind him that you have work to do.

Tonight, you have to park a couple blocks away from the bar just to get a parking spot.  When you reach Bro’s lounge, you’re shocked to find that in the matter of one evening, Bro and the Nitrams have completely revamped the place.  The windows are not only completely fixed, they’re tinted to give the place a desirably smoky look.  The awning above the door has been replaced with a posh matted black material, and above that something catches your attention that makes you give pause for a moment.

Above the doorway, in bright friendly letters, the word “Haven” is proudly displayed.  Over the years, Bro had always referred to his lounge as a haven for otherworldly creatures and demons such as yourselves, but never had he bothered to actually give the place a name.  Looks like the Nitrams finally pushed him into it.  The sign is a bit louder than you’d like, but you think the name fits.

Inside, it’s so packed that you can barely squeeze through.  Every seat is taken and even the standing space is filled with people.  Demons, humans, all crowding together drinking and chattering.  The Nitrams have certainly done their work. 

All the demonic patrons of the bar have a way of blending in with the masses.  You’re lucky, because your eyes are the only thing that would really give you away.  And your horrible aversion to anything holy, but that’s simple enough to avoid.  Unless Jane Crocker happens to be around.

Despite everyone’s natural abilities to blend in, getting enough demons together in a bar tends to have this additive effect of bringing your differences out.  Even though they quite possibly stand out the most, the Nitrams have a way of charming the suspicion out of people. Humans don’t even _think_ about the existence of demons when they’re around, despite what they may see and hear.  It’s an incredibly useful talent.  You wonder how long Bro plans to exploit them for it.

You take Jake’s hand and pull him through the crowd. 

Once you make it past the employees only door you finally heave a sigh of relief.

“Like the new look?” Bro asks, materializing out of nowhere beside you.  “Bet it’d be easy now to find someone to—oohhhh—”

He stops mid-sentence and looks at you.  Bro’s still wearing his shades, but you know that his gaze flicks over to Jake before it settles back on you.  Wordlessly, he offers you a fist-bump.

You bump his fist back but roll your eyes behind your own shades.  You should have known he’d figure you and Jake out immediately.  Goddamn telepaths.

“How is John?” you ask, ready to get the attention off you.

Bro indicates toward his office with a jerk of his head.  “Kid’s still asleep.  Dave’s worried sick.  Like literally, little shit puked in my trashcan a couple times already. Waste of perfectly good sasquatch blood.”

You shudder, glad you’re not the one who had to drink it.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn,” he assures you.  He goes on to ask, “like what the Nitrams have done with the place?”

“It’s an improvement over yesterday,” you agree.  “Where are they?”

“In the crowd somewhere, doing their thing,” Bro says, waving in the general direction of the lounge. “Everyone’s making sure they don’t let the humans party too hard.”

You smirk.  Only an issue the Nitrams would have.

“Anyway, Dave’s not going anywhere tonight which means _you’ve_ got some work to do,” Bro says, handing you a sheet with the night’s assignments on them.

You skim over the page and frown.  “This is it?”

“Despite all the new informants we have out there, there isn’t much news.  Derse is lying low,” Bro says with a very slight frown.  “That means they’re planning something.  Keep your guard up.  We have no idea when they might strike.”

With an uneasy feeling, you leave the bar and prepare for the night.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Work it!** 

You mean, go to work, right?

Sure.  You and Jake make short work of the zombies haunting a supermarket and quickly wipe the remnants of some overzealous imps from a junkyard nearby.  And that’s it. 

Bro wasn’t kidding.  Derse is laying _really_ low.  It bothers you.

Jake seems less than bothered.  In fact, you’d say he’s positively chipper tonight.  When he drags you to the movie theater a few minutes later, you realize why.

“No.  Please.  Not that.  Anything but that,” you say, completely deadpan, as Jake shows you the movie tickets he picked up.

“Stop being such a ninny,” Jake swats at your shoulder and grins, handing a ticket to you. “I’ll get you orange sodaaaa,” he says, his voice lilting off suggestively.

You can’t argue with that.  So a few minutes later, you find yourself watching quite possibly the worst horror film you’ve ever seen and sipping delicious orange soda.

“Dude, that’s totally ketchup,” you point out, as a head goes flying across the screen, thick goopy red material dripping off the severed end.  “They couldn’t even spring the extra five bucks for fake blood from the Halloween store?”

“Ssh!” Jake shushes you. “You’ll ruin the good part!”

Nevermind that Jake thinks all the parts are “the good part.” 

You really can’t be bothered with watching this movie right now, so instead you turn your attention to Jake.  His hair, that’s somehow feathered and fluffy, his bright green eyes that are widened and trained on the screen, and the adorable way his front teeth peek out from his slightly parted lips.

He’s your boyfriend now.  Boyfriend.  Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend.

You think the happy word over and over, and you don’t even realize the soft smile that crosses your lips.

 **timaeusTestified [TT]** **began pestering** timaeusTestified [TT] at 11:25

** TT: I think someone owes their intelligent and incredibly sexy computer counterpart a “thank you.”  That someone is you. **

You can’t help rolling your eyes as the bright orange text scrolls across the lenses of your shades.  “ _You’re lucky it went well,_ ” you think back at him.  “ _You don’t know how close I was to deleting you._ ”

** TT: Ouch.  You hurt me, bro.  Cause you know I haven’t had ages to backup my program anywhere.  That could have been the end of me.  The fucking end. **

“ _Point made.  What do you want?_ ” You think back to him.

** TT: Not much.  Just the sweet satisfaction of knowing I was right.  I was right first. **

“ _Goddamn, was I always this much of a cocky asshole?_ ”

** TT: First.  First.  I was right first.  You can’t hear it, but I’m making a song out of this.  A beautiful symphony of righteousness. **

You pointedly ignore AR as he gloats on for the next half hour and instead slowly move your hand over to Jake’s.  He sighs lightly when you brush your fingers together, entwining them and clasping them loosely.

Jake grins, flicking his gaze over at you for one brief moment before returning his attention to the screen.  Just in time to see the oatmeal for guts spray out of someone.  Joy.

But his hand tightens around yours, and he leans his shoulder into yours, getting more comfy.  You lean back into him, lightly resting your heads together.  Your shades protest, tilting up a little into his hair, but you don’t care.  

AR continues to ramble on as you close your eyes and just enjoy the warmth of Jake’s body next to yours. 

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Fast Forward** 

The following days are uneventful.  You start hearing talk of “Haven” all over town, and it isn’t long before you have to start using the back employee entrance just to get inside.  Kanaya now stands guard at the door, keeping at bay the hundreds of people waiting to get inside with her chainsaw.  None dare to defy her.  Bro doesn’t seem to mind the extra patronage, though Karkat looks even more furious than usual about having to deal with the “fuckton of nookwhiffing bulgelickers” every night.  Whatever that means.

Somewhere around day four or five, John wakes up.  Your little bro is happier than you’ve ever seen him.

You were actually around when it happened.  Dave looked miserable, laying on the couch in Bro’s office in what you swear was the same position he was in last night.  Did the kid even move?  There were streaks from fresh tears on his face.  After so many days, Bro must have forced him to change into one of his shirts, which was way too big and hung loosely off Dave. 

Huh, strange.  Rainbow Dash? You never knew Bro was a fan.

Had you not been walking into Bro’s office to retrieve your assignment, you think Dave probably would have continued sleeping.  But as you rudely barged through the door, you woke him up.  And you woke someone else up too.

“Go the fuck away,” Dave moaned, rolling slightly over to the side.

“Mmm…”  John’s murmur was barely audible.  You could hear the rustling of him lightly struggling to squirm out of the small blue blanket Kanaya made for him earlier in the week.  “…Dave?”

Dave woke up quicker than you’ve ever seen, sitting up and holding John carefully in his hands as the fairy sleepily began rubbing his eyes.  “John?  Holy fucking shit please tell me you’re really awake and this isn’t just some douchery that my mind is pulling on me while I’m asleep.  I’ll be so pissed if this is like Inception. Don’t need Joseph Gordon-Levitt all up in my business telling me what to think.”

You’re a little impressed that you remember his ramble.

John laughed, his voice sounding a little hoarse from sleeping so long.  “Yes Dave.  This is all a dream.  Soon Nic Cage is going to bust through the wall riding a motorcycle and take us to Neverland.”

“That reference is lame.  The lamest of lames.  And it makes no sense.  No way my brain would have come up with that,” Dave said, pulling John close to his chest.  Fondly, he stroked John’s back with his thumb.  It was quiet, but you’re pretty sure he murmured, “I’m so fucking happy you’re back.”

You and Jake were too.

After that, Dave starts taking his share of the work again, which leaves you with even less to do.  Most days you finish after an hour or two and spend the rest of the evening chilling comfortably in your bromance—romance—with Jake.  Although, things haven’t gone as far as you’d like.  He’s still an excellent kisser, but you don’t get to feel those lips nearly enough.  You’ve decided that there are two main reasons for this.

One is that Jake runs-headfirst-into-danger English is incredibly shy about PDA.  What the ever-loving fuck?  He flushes most adorably when you pat his butt in public (even if there’s nobody around) and just the thought of kissing out in the open turns him into a rambling mess that reminds you very much of your little bro. 

Speaking of which, after John woke up, Bro decided Dave couldn’t keep sleeping on his couch anymore.  And after the attack, he wouldn’t let him live on his own. He gave Dave one of two options.  Either move in with him or you. 

Dave chose you.

And so it was that you gave your room to your little bro and once again moved all your shit out into the living room.  Second-hand futon.  Best bed.

You honestly don’t mind sleeping on the futon, considering how rarely you sleep anyway.  If you really wanted to, you could turn your workshop room into a bedroom, but why bother?  There’s so much clutter in there that you doubt you’d be able to fit even a pile of blankets or anything to fall asleep on in there.

It doesn’t bother you. For the first couple days.

Around the third day after Dave moved in, you begin to feel decidedly agitated.  You want nothing more than to grab Jake and kiss him, and taste him, and screw him.  He’s your boyfriend now, damnit! He’s been your boyfriend for over a week.  You’re entitled to these things!

But you know that he will never do any of that with your little bro around and John (who has also moved in with you.)  It’s aggravating, and you feel like you’ve never been this annoyed with your little bro before.  How many _years_ did he live with you and you never cared?

It’s not even a space thing.  You could care less that he parades around the place in nothing but his boxers and shades, or that he eats your food.  You even go out of your way to buy apple juice for the kid because you know he loves it.  You like having Dave around to joke with him, strife with him, and watch shitty ass movies with him.

But you’re really hating it too.  And you can’t put your finger on why.

You don’t figure it out until John flies into your chest to give you a big hug, pathetically happy that you’ve recently purchased a collection of Nic Cage films for a glorious marathon this weekend. 

And all you want to do is screw him.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck fuck fuck.

You snort a bit at your horrible choice of mental swear words.  John looks up at you, his bright blue eyes full of questions you’d rather not answer.  You tap him lightly on the back a couple times, your way of hugging him back. John immediately brightens and flies away to share the good news of the upcoming marathon with Dave.

You do what you always do when you feel a mental crisis coming on.  Take a shower.

About half an hour into the shower, Dave’s banging on the door, whining about how you’re taking all the hot water.  You tell him to shove off, and he does.

Right now you want to be anywhere but here.  You’ve been so wrapped up in dating Jake and not screwing anything up that you had neglected feeding your inner demon.  But now that you’re aware of it, your incubus side is even more ravished than before.  Jake’s human food does a decent job of satisfying you, but you do have other needs.  Needs that you don’t think you’ll be able to ignore much longer.  

It’s tearing you apart from inside, leaving a raw burning chasm that you can’t fill.  You crave sex.  You need it.  You’ll die without it.

But Jake doesn’t seem ready for that yet.  You don’t want to push him, but you don’t want to cheat on him either.  And you don’t really want to die.

It’s a problem.  A problem you aren’t sure you can solve right now.

So you do what you do best.  Ignore it.

You emerge from the shower hours late for work.  Dave’s tapping his foot in annoyance. “How long ago did the hot water run out?”

“About an hour and a half ago,” you admit with your best I-don’t-give-a-shit shrug. 

He growls something back and takes the shortest Strider shower in history. 

You walk out of your apartment, the light of the crescent moon above guiding your way.  Maybe it won’t be so bad.  Maybe you can just ignore your want.  If you can wait a little longer, Jake might be ready.  If you can just wait a little longer—

It hits you again when you all pack into your Jeep.  You half-stumble into your Jeep, causing Dave to look at you with concern, but you wave it off.  He arches an eyebrow but doesn’t question you.

You desperately want to screw something.  More than want.  Your body’s telling you that you _need_ it _badly_. 

No, definitely not now.

You grip the steering wheel a little tighter and distract yourself by glancing into the rear view mirror, watching Dave and John banter back and forth with Jake about which Nic Cage movie to start with later tonight.  It’s obvious that Jake and John both truly love all of those movies, and your bro, little snot that he is, is gleefully egging them on.

“Dude, National Treasure 2.  It’s his best movie,” Dave says, completely straight-faced as he subtly pokes John.

“Ohhh you’re right, it’s SO good!  But Con Air’s still my favorite!” John exclaims.

“I must say, National Treasure is a top-notch piece of cinema!” Jake agrees whole-heartedly.  “It’s almost as good as Ghost Rider.  The special effect when his head becomes a flaming skull is simply magnificent!  Wouldn’t you agree, Strider?”

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you and not Dave.  With your practiced expressionless face, you say, “I’m disappointed, English.  How could you forget The Wicker Man?”

This starts both Jake and John on a loud and long tirade of exclamations, Jake acknowledging that it’s a piece of the highest-quality cinema and John lamenting that there was never a sequel.  Dave glances up just barely, and you know he’s looking at you in the rear view mirror too.  He gives you a half-smirk.  You think he just might be starting to forgive you for using up all the hot water.

When you get to work, Bro takes one look at you and ushers you into his office.  He shuts the door behind him with a sense of finality, leaving the others bewildered outside.  “Dude, not cool.”

“What?” you ask, feeling defiant as you stand by his desk as nonchalantly as you possibly can.  He’s standing right next to you, and though he’s about your height, somehow through sheer presence and force of will he feels fifty feet taller.  You do your best look as Strider-calm as you can.

He doesn’t buy it. 

“Cut the shit,” Bro says.  Half a second later, his hands are on your head.  Before you have a chance to react, he’s grasped the back of your hair, pulling your head back with one hand and tipping your shades down with the other.  He looks into your orange eyes, which you know from looking in the mirror this morning are bleeding a shade of red unnatural for even your kind.

One good look is all he needs before he’s releasing your head, swearing a little under his breath.  You push your shades back up indignantly but don’t say anything.

“How long ago did you last feed?” he finally asks.

“Jake made pancakes this morning,” you answer petulantly.

“That is _not_ what I fucking meant and _you know it_ ,” Bro growls lowly. “Answer the question.”

You don’t answer him.

Bro prowls closer into your personal space than you’d like.  You don’t need your incubus skills to know that he is more than pissed at you.  His voice lowers, and you know he means business when he demands again, “ _how long ago?_ ”

“Not really sure,” you finally admit.  A lot has been happening recently, and you haven’t kept track.  “Maybe a couple weeks ago?”

“Oh fuck no, I am _not_ dealing with this whiny-ass emo shit,” Bro growls, pacing away and taking off his cap so that he can rake both hands through his hair.  After a moment, he glares back at you and points a finger in your direction.  “I’m only gonna say this once, so you’d better listen to me.  You know what happens if you don’t eat.  You die.  And you might hurt or kill other people close to you in the process.”

You stay silent as he moves in closer, until you can feel the angered heat radiating from his body next to yours. “I know you just started dating Jake, and I’m happy for you.  I want you and Dave to both have the happiness I never did.  But don’t let it mess with your head.  Even Dave knows that he needs to eat.  He and John have talked about it.”

“They have?” you finally wonder aloud.

“Yes, they have,” Bro snarls back.  “And you and Jake had better have that conversation pronto.  In fact—”

Bro trails off, stalking to the door and throwing it open.  Like a Warner Brothers cartoon, Dave, John, and Jake are all crouched near the ground, eagerly listening just outside.  He grabs Jake, pulling him into the office.  Then he thrusts a piece of paper into Dave’s hands.  “It’s all you tonight lil’ man.  Dirk’s out of commission.  Go.”

Dave’s eyebrows rise just above the line of his shades, but he doesn’t say anything.  With a silent nod, he takes the paper and leaves.

Bro turns to you and says, “I’m leaving now.  Gonna take care of some business.  You two.  Figure your shit out.  Now.”

With a sense of finality, he closes the door behind him.

You and Jake are left standing awkwardly in his office.  The slow ticking of Bro’s desk clock that you never seem to notice is suddenly deafening.  Jake stares at you.  You stare at Jake.

This couldn’t get more awkward.

“So umm, I couldn’t hear everything through the door, but Bro wants us to talk?” Jake asks.  He thinks for a moment, then adds on, “— about sex?”

Correction.  It could get more awkward.

“Yeah. Yeah, he does,” You sigh slowly, removing your shades and pressing your thumb and forefinger lightly to your eyes.  After a good few moments, you look up into his emerald eyes and finally say, “you know what I am.  I don’t need to remind you.”

Jake slowly nods his head.  “You’re a— a succubus.”

You wince a little, but you give him points for trying.  “I’d prefer incubus, but yeah.  You’ve got the idea.”

You were kind of hoping that Jake would put two and two together from that, but he continues to stare at you expectantly.  The look in his eyes is eager, with just a touch of concern.  You get the feeling that what you’ve got to tell him will hurt him.  It makes your nerves tingle and a heavy weight settle in your stomach. 

Suddenly you hate Bro, and you hate that he’s making you have this talk with Jake.  Doesn’t he realize that you could lose the only real boyfriend you’ve ever had over this?

Because, even though you’ve only been dating a few days, Jake is the only boyfriend that you’ve ever really cared for.  Sure, through the decades, they’ve come and gone.  And they weren’t exactly little flings either.  Rufioh was definitely a thing for a while, platonic though it was.  Bro was positively pissed at how long your destructive relationship with Caliborn lasted.  When the two of you finally split, he and Dave both threw you the most ironically grandiose “eligible bachelor” party ever.  They filled Bro’s lounge with phallic shaped balloons and even had pony rides and a petting zoo.

The bastards.

But you do love your bros.  And you know that they both want what’s best for you.  Bro wouldn’t have done this otherwise.

With Caliborn, Rufioh, and all the other guys you ever dated, you never hesitated to show your affections from day one.  But with Jake, it’s a little different.  You actually give a fuck about him, and you _really_ don’t want to mess things up.

That’s why when he continues to stare at you, painfully unaware of what you’re trying to tell him, you feel a horrible wrenching in your chest.  You’ve got to be man enough to tell him someday.  Looks like that day is today.

“Jake, you remember what I eat, right?  You know, besides your breakfasts?” You murmur quietly, still determinedly looking into his eyes without your shades.  You know that he can see every bit of emotion that you usually hide behind your dark sunglasses, and that makes you feel weird.  But you think you owe it to him to at least know what you’re thinking.  If this whole mess heads south, then you’ll know that at least you tried.

“I—recall, yes,” he stammers slowly, a flush rising to his cheeks.  Goddamn is he adorable.  You _really_ hope you don’t fuck this up.

“I told you from day one that I’d never make you do something you don’t want to do.  Guess I already broke that, but I’m keeping my word from here out,” you say, working up the nerve and bravado to continue with what may be the sappiest line you’ve ever allowed yourself to utter.  “Jake English, I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you.  I’ll never make you do something that you don’t want to do.”

His eyes continue to fill with concern, his eyebrows raising and his pupils constricting with the concentration he’s placing on you.  It’s clear that realization is slowly beginning to dawn on him.  He doesn’t speak, though.  He’s waiting for you to finish.

“But I have to eat,” you say quietly. “I’ll die soon if I don’t.”

He opens his mouth, looking like he’s about to say something, but you interject quickly.  You have to get everything out before you lose your resolve.

“I’ll wait for you as long as it takes until you’re ready.  After that, I’ll never betray you,” you say, your voice full of conviction and your resolve unwavering.  A strangely touching and simultaneously horrible realization dawns on you right after you say those words.

You’ll die for Jake English.

Holy fuck.  When did you fall this hard for him?  When did that happen?  It’s only been a few goddamned months.

You’re certain Bro would strife you right now and beat the living shit out of you if he knew what was going through your head.

Or maybe he does know.  Maybe he figured that out already.  Maybe that’s why he forced you to have this painfully awkward conversation.

You avert your eyes, not wanting to see the pain in his expression as you finally bring up what you’d been too afraid to say before.  “But until then, I hope you don’t mind if I find sustenance elsewhere.  I think you know what that means.”

“Strider, mate, I-I never realized you were,” Jake stammers, his voice trailing off abruptly.  His arms are around you before you get the chance to glance back up at him.  He’s warm, and nuzzling his cheek to yours, and gripping your shirt tightly, as if you might fly away from him, and it feels _so_ _damned good_.  He tucks his chin in the crook between your shoulder and neck and murmurs softly into your ear, “you never needed to wait for me.  I never expected that.  You are completely mind boggling, Dirk!”

You hum lightly, taking the opportunity to embrace him back.  His black t-shirt fits tightly to him, and you can feel the cords of his muscle beneath your fingertips.  He smells divine.  You want him.  You want him _so_ badly.  And you _think_ maybe he wants you?

It’s taking him a little while to respond.  You’re not sure where he’s going with this.  You kind of don’t want to know.  Already, you’re getting your hopes up, but really, you know that you shouldn’t. 

It’s likely that you’ll end up screwing a complete stranger again tonight.  Another meaningless routine just to continue living.  It’s always been a part of life for you, but you never realized just how much you hated it.  Not until now, when you are so close and yet so distant from someone you really care about.

Suddenly, there’s meaning in the act.  It’s no longer a game of horizontal tango.  It’s something that could potentially hurt the one you care the most about.

But Jake doesn’t sound upset at all.  He doesn’t seem to mind the idea of you carrying on as usual, but you can’t be completely certain.  Jake is befuddling.  It’s something you both love and hate about him.  You never know what he’s going to do next.  You squint your eyes ever so slightly, trying to best estimate his next move.

He does something you least expected him to do.

Jake chuckles.  Gently, he caresses the back of your neck, weaving his fingers into your perfectly styled hair, and again you just can’t seem to bring yourself to care.  Not with Jake.  “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Your eyes are widening.  You think you know where this is going, and damn it this had better not be a farce.  “Huh?” you say smartly.

He pulls back, so that you can see his face.  There’s a small shy grin on his lips and his eyes are full of coquettish mischief.  He exhales a light breathy laugh and says, “Dirk, I’m no stranger to sex.”

If you had a beating heart, you’re certain it would have stopped.  You replay Jake’s last sentence over in your mind 5 times before you risk grinning and saying, “about fucking time.”

Your lips are together again, and it’s magic.  You consider yourself an expert at this, and Jake’s kisses are blissfully sinful.  His mouth is warm and his lips move in a way that makes your entire body tingle.  When he deepens the kiss, you eagerly pull at his tongue with your own.  He tastes even better than you last remember.  His beautiful viridian energy hits your tongue in a rush, and you pull it to you fervently.  You want him so badly.

Suddenly, you remember why you’re feeling this way.  Yeah, Jake is a sexy piece of meat, but you’re also a starving incubus.  If you aren’t careful, you could kill Jake tonight.

Regretfully, you pull away from him, already feeling the warming prickle of his energy seeping through your body.  After just that one kiss, you’re already feeling better.  Your head is clearing, and suddenly you _definitely_ know you shouldn’t continue here.

Jake looks confused, his eyebrows knitting up in question.  “I thought you wanted to—”

“More than anything,” you respond quickly.  “But not here.  Bro’s fond of video cameras.  Everywhere.”

A look of understanding dawns on Jake’s face.  His cheeks flush a bit, likely from the embarrassment of knowing Bro will probably watch your kiss later.  If he hasn’t already.  He stammers, “o-oh.  Is that so?  Well then, yes, you’re quite right!  We should relocate elsewhere.”

It takes you five seconds to grab Jake’s hand, pull him outside Bro’s office and out the back door. Seconds later, you’re in your Jeep and peeling down the street.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Sex it up!** 

You don’t make it far after stumbling into your apartment.  Your lips are together quickly, fingers pulling at hair, caressing skin, tugging away clothing.  The door is closed as an afterthought.  Clothing is shed like a summer rain all over the floor on the way to Jake’s bedroom.

Jake manages to push his door closed, and you don’t even bother locking it.  If Dave happens to come in here despite all the warning signs outside, it’s his own damned fault.

You fall easily onto Jake’s unmade bed, which dips generously in the middle from your combined weight.  The window is wide open, but you don’t give a fuck.  Who’s going to be peeking in at you this high up off the ground?

The moonlight highlights Jake’s naked body in the most delightful way, catching the ridges of his taut muscles, his skin, his dick—  You dip your head down and start kissing him everywhere.

From this point, it’s usually all routine.  Your body knows the best angles, where and how to kiss to give your lover the most pleasure.  And even if he happens to be different, you can immediately sense what he likes best.

Feeling your lover’s pleasure is part of your gift.  When you kiss Jake in the sensitive place at the crook of his neck, you hear his soft gasp and _feel_ his charged emerald life-force rush over your lips.  You lap every delicious bit up hungrily and search for more things that will make Jake moan.

You don’t let this fall into the normal routine.  Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t.  Jake is different from all the others that you’ve ever bedded, if for no other reason, then simply for the fact that you love him.  You actually love him.

And what a difference it makes.

When Jake lightly caresses your skin, he stokes a delicious fire within you.  He touches you in ways that nobody else ever has.  And you don’t mean physically.  You’ve been with excellent lovers, some who were arguably as talented and possibly well versed as you are.  But when Jake’s fingers brush your skin, they brush your soul.  There’s an undeniable warmth growing in your chest.  A sense of happiness and elation that you never felt with any of your other lovers.

He strokes your hip and you exhale into the skin of his neck.  He squeezes your ass and you want to bite him.  He yanks you back roughly by the hair, and you _moan_ into his lips.  He kisses you and it’s wildfire running through your veins.

Jake has you, and you have him.  And now that you have found him, you’re never letting him go.

His breaths are heavy and warm, and it isn’t long before you can see the want behind his eyes.  And feel his hardness on your thigh. 

You grin, gently pushing him onto his back.  Slowly, you work your way down his body, pressing kisses into his warm skin, watching his expression falter, hearing his breath hitch.  Without any clothing in the way, you’re free to taste him everywhere, and it’s so fucking good.  You’re hyper in-tuned to every roll of his delicious energy, and you make note of what Jake likes.

Jake likes it when you rake your fingernails against the back of his neck.  You’d bet anything he’d like it if you bit him there too, but you’ll save that for later.  Jake’s breath catches in his throat as your tongue dips into the sensitive crook behind his collarbone.  He doesn’t do much when you lightly circle a nipple, but he exhales a shaky, ragged breath as you trail your fingers down his torso, stopping to admire the taut ridges of muscle he’s worked up over the years. 

Jake English is in excellent shape.  You take a moment just to appreciate his fully naked body.

Your fingers dance around your prize to caress his inner thigh, and he _whines_ in frustration.  It’s music to your ears.  Jake has many flattering assets, including his dick, which you can confidently say is on the larger end of the scale.

Jake English has no patience.  As usual, he’s ready to spring into things, and he rolls his hips up in an effort to make contact with your skin anywhere he can.  You tisk at him and lightly shake your head.  “What’s the rush, English?  We’ve got all night.”

You’ve been told in the past that you can be a cock-tease.  You find absolutely no shame in that.  Quite the opposite, you pride yourself on your ability to hold out and make your lovers _beg_ you for release.

But you don’t feel like torturing Jake.  At least, not tonight.  So, instead you settle for something in between.  Calmly, casually, you pin his hips down firmly with your palms and lick from the base to the tip of his shaft in one slow, long motion.  And oh, again, that _whine!_   The sound that comes from Jake’s throat is somehow both strangulated and beautiful, and you want to hear more.

To hell with the Jake torture.  You’re throwing that idea out the window right now.  You love this man, and you’re going to show him just what you can do.

You lavish attention on his dick, taking him all the way down your throat until your nose is buried in the warm fuzzy hair at the base—that smells like _Jake–_ and _holy hell_ do you want this man.  He’s gasping above you, his fingers entwining in your hair as you suck and swallow him again and again.  His legs tense around you, and you have to fight to keep his hips down.

Has Jake ever had a blowjob before?  You’re certain he would have choked any other partner several times by now with his aggressive nature and insistent thrusts.  Good thing you’re not just any other partner.

That reminds you of exactly what you are, and you actually pull back at the thought.  You’re a demon. An incubus.  And you’ve been feeding off the delicious energy rolling off Jake hungrily, but you’re still starving.

You really don’t want to kill Jake tonight.  You love him too much for that.

Jake lifts his head up, panting heavily and looking at you with the most adorably confused expression.  “Did-did I hurt you?”

Quickly you shake your head.  “No, you’re fine, English.”  Gently, you reach up and caress the wisps of hair near his forehead, lightly pushing his head back down onto the bed.  “Just enjoy this and—tell me if you start getting light-headed or anything.”

“Wha—?” is all he manages to say before your mouth is on him again.  The words die in his throat in a small gasp, and his hands fly back to your head, insistently pushing you down onto his dick.  Holy hell, have you ever been with a partner so aggressive?

You think back on it.  No, you don’t think so.  You made out with Eridan once, and that was pretty intense, but it was nothing like this.  Caliborn had an unusual definition of loving, but that was different too.  Jake English is in a class of his own.

You lavish attention on him, sucking his hardness and squeezing his thighs, insisting that he keep them in place.  Jake’s starting to become more vocal, his little whines growing louder and more frequent.  You can feel his dick swelling in your mouth, down your throat, and you know that he isn’t going to last too much longer.

Sure enough, Jake takes a shaky breath and fixes you with an adorable and vulnerable expression, a slight haze in his eyes and the dusting of a flush across his cheeks.  “D-Dirk—I think—I think I’m—”

He doesn’t get farther than that.  You don’t let him.  One decisively hard suck is all it takes to make him spill his delicious warmth down your throat.  You swallow it, naturally.  You’re not about to pass that up.  For some reason that you’ll never understand, it fills your incubus urges far better than the rest of the blowjob possibly could. 

You sigh softly, finally deliciously sated.  Gently, you release him from your mouth and his hips from your grip.  You kiss the tip, licking away the remnants of his love that spill out a little late.

The small huffs of Jake’s breath begin to slow down, and finally, he looks up at you, fixing you with the brightest eyes and a small shy smile.  “Golly, Strider, I’m sorry I—”

You hush him with a chaste kiss on the lips.  “No need to apologize.  Why do you think I did it?”

“But you— you’re not,” Jake stammers in a very roundabout and endearing way. You know exactly what he is trying to say, and you could help him out.  But, watching him struggle is too cute to pass up.  He tries again.  “You didn’t—come?  Is that the right term around these parts?”

By this point, his cheeks are bright red with embarrassment.  You kiss each of them gently and murmur gently in his ear, “it’s ok, English.  Your pleasure’s all that matters.”

He shivers, and you’re not sure if he likes what you’ve said or if he’s cold.  You really hope it’s the former.  You lay in the crux between his body and the wall and begin to pull the covers over you both, but he stills your hand adamantly.  “No, this simply isn’t right!”

You pause, watching him, curious to see where he’s going with this.

He turns to face you, his hand slowly, hesitantly working its way south.  He rests it on your stomach, just shy of your sex.  “I don’t care if you’re—what you are.”

His cheeks are flushed again, and you can’t help the grin that comes to your face.  You fleck a finger playfully atop his nose and murmur, “—an incubus?”

“Yes that,” he mutters quickly.

“Say it,” you demand softly.  Not because you care, but because you want to see his reaction.

You’re not disappointed.  Jake gasps, the flush deepening on his cheeks, and he stammers, “I—wait, why?”

“Because I want to hear you say it,” you trail your finger down his cheek and neck, lightly caressing the tender skin at the back of his neck.  He shudders, and yes, you have really fallen hard for this man.

You start kissing the crux of his neck, the sensitive place you mapped out earlier, coaxing a soft gasp out of him.  “ _I-incubus…_ ” he moans.

You are so hard for him.  But Jake has never had a boyfriend before, and you really don’t want to scare him away with the first day of sex.  The incubus inside you is satisfied, and that’s good enough for you right now. 

So you kiss him again and gently stop his hand from moving further down your body.  Instead, you clasp his hand fondly in your own and murmur into his ear, “maybe tomorrow, Jake.”

He shivers again.  This time, when you pull the covers up over you both, he doesn’t stop you.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have noticed that I’m fond of updating on Thursdays. It’s a phenomenon I like to call “Update Thursday,” because really, what else is there to look forward to on a Thursday? Jack shit, that’s what.
> 
> I’ve tried to update every Thursday since beginning this story, and I’ll continue to do my best. But unfortunately, after this point, I may not be able to update every “Update Thursday.” Sadly, I’ve run out of buffer chapters, and Life is busy. You know the drill.
> 
> But that doesn’t mean that I love you any less! I always appreciate likes, adds, and the ever so elusive “comments.” I’ll keep doing my best to bring you Dirk and Jake’s story as quickly as I can.
> 
> Love to you all, and best wishes for a very happy holiday season!


	9. In the Forest, there is an Heir

****

**Dirk == > Enjoy the afterglow** 

You wake up the next day to Jake slowly pulling out of your arms.  When he realizes he’s woken you, he gives you an apologetic look and says, “rats!  Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’ok,” you mumble half into his pillow.  Lazily, you reach out for him, pulling him back into the bed with you.

He yelps, not expecting the surprise grab.  “Strider!  What are you doing?!”

“I wanna cuddle,” you murmur into the back of his hair, looping your arm around him and pulling his back up against your body.  Mmm.  Jake Jake Jake.  No other influences.  Just your Jake.

He curls easily against your body, lightly protesting, “but I have to make breakfast.”

“Breakfast can wait,” you say, nuzzling into the crook at the base of his neck.  You manage to keep the grin off your face as you suggest, “Or _you_ can be breakfast.”

You feel him tense and gasp.  “Dirk, are you saying you need—”

Finally, you allow yourself a chuckle, a small cue since he can’t see you right now.  “I don’t _need_ anything, Jake.  You did just fine yesterday.  I’ll be good at least another week.  But what I _want_ might be a different story.”

Jake sighs, melting further into your body.  You’ve been around the block long enough to know when someone’s ready to give it to you.  Jake is all yours, and you’re _so_ ready to—

Suddenly, a loud obnoxious sound fills the air.

Instantly, Jake pulls himself from your grasp, looking around.  “What’s that?”

You sigh at the over-the-top dubstep song.  You chose this ringtone for only one person.  One person whose call you really shouldn’t ignore.  Grudgingly, you pull yourself away from Jake and sigh, “It’s just Bro.”

You find your pants lying in a pile in the middle of the floor and fish your phone out of a pocket.  Jake’s already somehow magically fully clothed and ready for the day.  Fuck.

Answering the call, you growl at your brother, “what do you want?”

“Interrupting something?” he asks.

“Not anymore,” you sigh, as Jake escapes the room, shutting the door behind him.  A second or two later, you hear the banging of cupboards and pans in the kitchen.

“You figure your shit out last night?” he asks, not missing a beat.

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Good.  Then I need you to come in early today,” Bro, slave-driver extraordinaire, says.

You flick your gaze at the clock in Jake’s room.  “Dude, it’s barely noon.”

“And I give so many shits about that,” he answers with mock sympathy.  “Get Dave up too.  Be here in an hour.”

He doesn’t wait for you to reply before hanging up.

Sometimes you really hate Bro.

Dave whines something terrible when you try to get him out of bed.  You have to yank all the covers off him and literally throw him fully clothed into the running shower before he finally wakes up.  “ _Fuck!!!_ It’s cold!!!” He yelps.

You shut the door behind you and make your way to the kitchen, where Jake is stirring a pot of what you assume to be oatmeal.  With a heavy sigh, you flop into a kitchen chair, watching him work.  “Bro wants us there in an hour,” you mumble.

Jake is at your side, cupping your cheek, and kissing you before you realize it.  Yes, you could get used to this.  “Then we’ll be there in an hour,” he says, with one last chaste kiss.

Forlornly, you watch Jake’s ass, that could have been yours this morning, sway away from you and return to the kitchen.

A quiet moan to your left makes you glance over to find a miserable looking John.  He’s sitting on the table with his head between his knees, his wings drooping behind him.  You’d swear that his naturally bright blue aura looks a little green today.  Hesitantly, you lightly touch a finger to his shoulder.  “You ok?”

“Nooooo,” John moans.  It takes him at least a minute, but eventually he elaborates, “Dave wanted to party with the Nitrams last night.  Wanted to give you space.”

Suddenly it all makes perfect sense.  You kind of feel a little guilty now.  “How much did you drink?”

John groans again.  “I don’t ever want to see alcohol again.”

You chuckle a little at his expense. “Sorry to break it to ya, but you work at Haven.  It’s kind of a bar.”

He sighs very loudly and flops over onto the table, curling up into his ultra comfy looking blue pajamas.  “I like the name,” he mumbles to you.  “But I hate alcohol.”

When Dave stumbles out of the shower, you sense that John might not be the only one feeling a little under the weather.  He’s put the same dripping wet clothes back on.  “Dude, different clothes.”

He grumbles something that vaguely resembles a swear to you and disappears into his (your) room.

Your shower is less than legendary or infinite this afternoon, leaving you less than pleased.  You didn’t even have time to properly style your hair, and it’s doing this weird fanning thing in the front.  You hate it and constantly try to flatten it out as you drive down the road, but Jake seems to love it. He seems highly amused with your grumbles when he insistently fans it back out with his fingers.

Since it’s so early, you actually can get a good parking spot and can walk into Haven through the front door.  When the bottles of liquor behind the bar come into view, you swear you hear John retch a little bit.  Dave quietly grumbles, “aww, nasty!  Not on my shirt!”  But the slight furrowing of his brows gives away his concern.  He cradles John carefully in his hands as you keep walking.

You find Bro sitting behind his desk with two ultra sized mega gulp cups from the gas station down the street.  You’re 100% positive that it isn’t Coke in those cups.

“You’re right,” Bro agrees with your thoughts.  “It’s Kraken blood.  One for each of you.  Drink up.”

Grudgingly, you and Dave accept the cups and sit on Bro’s couch to finish them. 

Kraken blood has to be some of the worst blood you’ve ever tasted.  It’s salty and _fishy_ and reminds you of the stuff John spewed on Dave’s shirt.

“John’s sick?” Bro asks, raising an eyebrow in concern. 

“Drank too much,” Dave answers for his boyfriend, who is already fast asleep on his thigh. 

“Great,” Bro says in a decidedly sarcastic way and frowns.  “I can’t do much to help the living, but maybe Latula can work up a hangover remedy.  You’re going to need John today, so much as I want to, I can’t let the little dude rest.”

Bro hands you the paper with your assignment on it.  You read it and quirk an eyebrow back up at him.  “Are we even allowed to go there?”

“If John’s with you, you can,” Bro says, looking at you through his shades pensively.  “Won’t be comfortable for you or Dave, but you’ll manage.  He’ll have to put you both under a protective spell.”

“No offense, but the lad doesn’t appear to be in any condition to be conscious and awake, much less casting spells on anybody,” Jake says, eyeing the peacefully sleeping fairy doubtfully.

“Wish I could give him time, but you have to leave now, during the daytime, otherwise you won’t be able to enter the land,” Bro explains. “Better go now. And take your rocketboard.  You won’t have time to drive.

As usual, Bro’s right.

You have to take your rocketboard just to make sure you get there before sunset.  John is none too happy.  Latula did mix up some hangover remedy involving a raw egg, coffee, and what looked like more liquor, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much for your little fairy friend.

“Fuuuuuck, Dirk, can’t you slow down?” you think John moans.  Dave is cradling him carefully but tightly in his right hand, holding onto Jake with the other.  Jake is holding onto you, and you’re flying the rocketboard.

“Sorry, no can-do little man,” you say back to him.  “We have to get there before nightfall.  Didn’t cut my shower short for nothing.”

“Not little—” John grumbles back.

Jake tilts his head to the side, and you can tell he’s giving you a bemused _look_.  “I like your hair,” he says playfully.

“Shut up.”

Fifteen minutes later, you see your destination in the distance.  A large copse of trees that looks like it came straight out of Fern Gully springs out of the surrounding forest.  They’re mystical and nothing like the trees anywhere nearby.  A translucent shimmering light surrounds the forest.  You know from previous experience that the forest is invisible to normal people. 

Luckily for you, you’re not normal.

Unluckily for you, the forest hates you.  Like, seriously _hate hates_ you.

You set the rocketboard down next to the entrance to the forest, handing it to Jake who stores it who knows where.  Experimentally, you reach your hand out and barely graze the edge of the shimmering curtain of light with your fingertips.

Instantly, you yank you hand back in pain.  “We’re in the right spot.”

 _The Curtain_ , as Bro likes to call it, is a strange protective field that envelops the entirety of the mystic forest.  From what you’ve gathered, it’s only passable during the daylight hours.  At night, nothing can come in or out.  The Curtain keeps the forest invisible to normal beings and impenetrable to undead or demonic beings such as yourself.  This is where John comes into play.

“Time to work your magic,” Dave says, bringing John to the edge of the forest.

“Time to work my wha—?” John asks, sitting up in Dave’s hands and glaring blearily around, frowning at the bright sunlight overhead.  It takes him a second to realize where you’ve taken him.  When he does, he makes a noise that sounds a little like a dying gazelle.  “What the FUCK are we doing here?!”

Dave winces at the volume, and even John clutches his head in pain from his own outburst.   “Not a fan of your own stomping grounds?” your bro asks.

“Not when I’m—” John lowers his voice to a barely audible level and continues, “ _hung-over as hell, I’m not!  My DAD lives here.  What if he sees me like this?  He’ll be so disappointed!!!_ ”

“Nothing can make your old man anything but proud of you,” Dave reassures him.  “If knowing that you’re dating me didn’t bother him, nothing will.”

“Yeah, that,” John mutters uneasily.  You and Dave both catch his hesitation immediately.

Jake does not.  “How fantastic it must be to have a father so approving of your interspecies relationship!  Why, if my father were alive, I’m sure he would be positively displeased!” he exclaims with a wide happy grin.

You shoot Jake a “wtf?” glance because really.  What the fuck?

“That’s totally not what you were going to say,” Dave says, eyeing his boyfriend sharply.

“Uhh no, it wasn’t,” John murmurs, casting his gaze away from Dave.

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Your little bro asks.

“No, I didn’t,” John replies quietly.  Slowly, almost shamefully, he looks up at him.  “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Ugh, I’m too fucking hung-over for this shit, but I’m gonna woo your dad off his feet like nobody’s business.  Have all your little fairy relatives so impressed with this Strider they’ll want to eat my shit like schoolgirls in a Japanese porno,” Dave says, with just a tiny note of bitterness in his voice.  John probably didn’t catch it, but you did. 

Your little bro’s scared.

“Eww Dave, gross!” John groans.

 “Whatever, let’s just go in.  You gonna be able to do that?” Dave asks.

John gulps, wobbling to his feet.  “I can try.”  He shakes out his wings experimentally a couple times, then leaps off Dave’s hand into the air.  He’s a little unsteady, but he seems to be ok.

John flits around you three, sprinkling you with something sparkly that makes Jake sneeze.  You hear him lightly murmuring some words, but you can’t understand any of it.  And you shouldn’t.  Because he’s speaking the language of the people who live in this forest. 

The fey.  John’s people.  The language is soft, and full of rounded hollow sounds.  It slips off John’s tongue like water, lilting lightly with each inflection.

When he’s finished, John practically collapses onto Dave’s shoulder.  “Ok, that should do it.  Try going in now.”

Again, you tentatively reach out your hand to the curtain.  This time, you’re able to pass through.  The holiness of the fey grounds leaves a ringing in your ears and a dull ache in the back of your head.  Everything is so damned _bright here_.  The trees are bright.  The stupid little waterfalls are bright.  The sun is bright.

You hate the fey land with every fiber of your incubus being.  And in turn, the forest hates you.

But you’re inside now, granted temporary permission by John.  And so are Dave and Jake.  Dave seems even less enthused to be here than you are.  John looks petrified.

Jake is perfectly fine.  “Are you ready to get going?!  We have a monster to hunt!”  With that, he spins around and actually fucking _skips away_. 

Just what the fuck are you dating?

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Explore the Fairy Land with Jake** 

You explore all right.  Jake leaves no nook or cranny unearthed.  Jake’s been holding your hand, dragging you this way and that like a ragdoll, but you can’t say you mind.  You’re happy just to feel the warmth of his hand and the way his fingers lightly squeeze yours when he finds something exciting.  You’ve decided that you love it when Jake is excited. 

Despite what a “rip-snorting-fabulous-time” he’s been claiming to have, Jake seems a little disappointed.

“What’s wrong, English?” you ask.

Jake frowns.  “It’s just—no matter where I look, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of any fey!”

John giggles softly.  When you all glance at him in question, he explains, “that’s because they can’t be seen by outsiders if they don’t want to!  Most of us are very private beings.  Would you want a giant to peek into your home and see you taking a shower?”

Jake debates it for longer than is really necessary before admitting, “I’d suppose not.”

“So you planning on filling us in soon?” Dave asks.  “What’d we have to do today?”

“We have to take down a banshee,” you explain.

Dave throws you a questioning glance.  “Don’t those only come out at night?”

“Yup,” you agree.

“Then what are we supposed to do all day?” Dave groans.

“I don’t know.  Maybe work on getting all John’s relatives to eat your shit?” you suggest.  “They’ve probably been watching us all day.”

Dave tenses and quickly glances to his shoulder where John is care-freely swinging his feet to and fro. “That true?”

John shrugs.  “None my relatives have been around.  Dad’s the only one you have to worry about anyway.”

“Better question, why is _Jake_ leading us around?” Dave asks.

“Because your boyfriend’s so hung over he can’t get off your shoulder,” you respond.  “And besides, Jake has more enthusiasm than all of us combined.”

“Do I!” Jake beams happily.

“And if we just keep walking straight forward, we’ll get there,” John murmurs, flopping back down on Dave’s shoulder.

 “Point taken,” your bro sighs.

A couple hours later, the sun is beginning to wane on the horizon. You can only tell because the light filtering through the thick canopy of tree leaves above is beginning to grow dimmer.  It’s around this time that you finally break through the trees to the large lake in the center of the pixie land.

You can’t see them, but you can sense that the air is rife with the fey.  The blue water of the lake is crystal clear, and you can easily see beautiful rainbow colored fish swimming below its surface.  The lake itself seems to give off a mystic glow.

You stop in your tracks.  Here.  Somehow you know, your target will appear here.

John looks up and immediately makes a small squeaking gasp.  Quickly, he flies off Dave’s shoulder and hovers in the air a few feet away.  “Hey guys!  Oh, no reason.  Yeah they’re cool!”

You glance at your bro’s fairy boyfriend. He’s talking to the empty air in front of him.

“They are, but they wouldn’t do that!” John cries.  “Well, maybe.  Is it—” John lowers his voice. “ _Is it really that obvious?_ ”

Dave looks at John.  He looks at you.  You shrug back at him.

“Noooo! You can’t do that!  Don’t tell!”  John whines.  “Seriously, I’ll never talk to you again if you do!”

Jake leans in closer to you and murmurs, “has the lad lost his marbles?”

You shake your head.  “No.  Remember all those fairies you were looking for earlier?” you ask.

Jake nods, still transfixed by John talking to nothing.

“They’re all over.  I can sense them,” you murmur.  “John’s probably talking to some friends.”

It’s true.  For a moment, you close your eyes and allow yourself to observe the lakeside clearing with your incubus senses, and you can _feel_ their presence all around you.  You can feel their carefree nature, their joy to see John again.

But you can also feel their fear.  They’re apprehensive around you, and with good reason. But there’s something else that’s making them afraid.

“Inside?  Why?” John asks, concern in his voice now.  “Oh, no, we’re here to get rid of the banshee!”

The atmosphere suddenly grows tense.  Even though you can’t see them, you can feel that all the fairies are panicking, just from hearing the name.  As the sun continues to disappear, John seems to grow even more determined than before. “Don’t worry guys!  We’ll get rid of her!”  he says with conviction.

John flies back to you, still clearly hung-over, but happiness in his eyes.  “Those were my friends!  Sorry, they’re a little scared around strangers.  They don’t like showing themselves to just anybody.”

“It’s ok, they’d probably just fall all over this sexy Strider anyway if I got to talk to them.  It’d be like candy canes at Christmas time and I’d be the sexiest Santa handing out all the presents and—” Dave’s ramble is cut short as John presses both of his hands firmly to his lips.

“Shoosh you!” John says, though you can hear the laughter in his voice.  “My dad’s probably around here somewhere.”

The sun finally disappears below the horizon, and like flipping a switch, the lake changes.  An eerie fog rises from the once clear waters, and the fey land is filled with the apprehension of its inhabitants.

It isn’t long before a terrible wailing permeates the air, echoing off the lake and trees.  It reminds you of the sirens of an emergency vehicle, only the wailing never seems to stop.  A cold wind begins to swirl around you.  Jake actually shivers from the frigid breeze.

“I’d wager our banshee is nearby,” Jake murmurs, frowning at the fog.

No sooner does he say that then the screeching crescendos to a terrible volume.  An abysmal apparition materializes from the fog, one of tattered robes, long white hair, deformed limbs ending in terrifying claws, and calculating white eyes.  The banshee whisks your way with her mouth wide open, a sharp screech growing even louder.

You all manage to dodge out of the way as she swoops right between you, her claws catching the ends of Jake’s shirt and ripping the fabric with sharp precision.  Jake frowns.  “I say, that was entirely uncalled for!”

As the Banshee turns around, narrowing her eyes vindictively, Jake stands firmly in place.  The spindly ends of her robes billow out behind her, and her wail is louder than ever.  The mist pours violently from all around her as she comes straight for Jake again.

What the fuck is Jake doing?

He’s certainly not moving.  If anything, he’s just glaring even harder at her, an odd determination in his eyes that somehow frightens and draws you to him at the same time.  In an odd movement, he opens his arms to the Banshee, inviting her to him.

“JAKE!” you shout.  “Get the fuck out of there!”

“It’s all right, Dirk,” he responds, but doesn’t offer any more explanation.  He doesn’t even glance your way.

Oh fuck, is Jake trying to get himself killed?  But Jake doesn’t seem suicidal to you.  So why is he doing this?  What could possibly be his reasoning?  What are you supposed to do? 

He must have something in mind.  He _seems_ to know what he’s doing, but let’s face it, this is _Jake_ you’re talking about.  You love the man, but even you have to admit that he’s not the sharpest crayon in the box.  What if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing?  What if he dies?

You don’t know if you could live with yourself if you let him die. 

You’re finding yourself left with more questions than answers and very little time to ponder the answer to any of them.  You don’t have time to think about it.  All you have time to do is react.

Your feet are moving before you realize it, flash-stepping you over to Jake.  As usual when you flash-step, the world slows around you, and you watch as Jake sluggishly blinks.  He flicks his gaze at you, his expression ever so gradually becoming more surprised.

And then your hands come into your view.  What are you doing? Oh.  You’re pushing him out of the way.

Oh fuck.  You’ve seen these movies.  You know what happens next.

It never ends well for the person pushing the other one out of the way.

But it’s a little too late to be thinking about that now, isn’t it?  You can’t stop momentum.  And really, you’re not sure if you would want to.  You love Jake too much to lose him.  Your feet are already in motion, your hands clasping the coarse fabric of his green jacket.

With a final burst of speed, you shove him out of the way.

An instant later, the banshee is on you.  Literally, _on_ you.  You feel her icy noncorporeal body pass through your own.  When she shrieks inside you, your body feels like it’s going to burst apart from the resonating pain.  You feel her torment. You feel her agony.

You feel her sadness.

And suddenly, you realize what Jake was trying to do.

The banshee passes through you, her wail bursting from the walls of your body in a feat of physics that you would love to explore were you not in this exact situation.  As the creature wails, drifting to the far side of the lake, you turn to Jake.

You’re completely unharmed, and so is he.  In fact, Jake is blinking at you, a slow look of realization dawning on his face.  He must have just registered what you did.  “Dirk, you didn’t have to—” he murmurs.

“I know that now,” you agree, keeping an eye on the banshee as she begins circling the lake.  “When she passed through me, I could feel her.  She wasn’t vindictive, spiteful, or even a bit angry.  She was lonely.”

“Of course she is lonely!” Jake says, tossing his hands in the air in exasperation.  “Had you informed me of our opponent, I could have filled you in!  Banshees are not violent creatures.  Rarely do they show themselves, and when they do, it’s often to mourn the passing of the dead.”

“That’s nice, but how do we kill her?”  John asks, flying up to you from wherever he was hiding.

Jake shakes his head.  “We can’t kill her.  She’s already dead.  All we can do is try to show her that she’s loved and help her move onto the next realm.”

“And we do that how?” you ask.

Jake flashes you a bright smile, one that makes your heart melt a little.  You somehow know that you can trust him on this.  Whatever he’s going to do, you know he’s right.  “Like this.”

As the banshee finishes her circle and comes your way again, Jake turns to face her.  Once again, his face is set with determination, and he spreads his arms out in invitation.

You watch as the ephemeral creature drifts instinctively to Jake, her tattered rags flitting behind her, translucent and peppered with holes, like a moth-eaten mourning shroud.  The mist scatters from around her, and her wailing reaches an almost unbearable pitch as she crashes into Jake.

It happens in the matter of mere moments. You feel so helpless as all you can do is _watch_ your boyfriend tenderly wrap his arms around the specter.  He whispers something to her that you can’t hear over her cries.

Seconds later, she’s vanishes into the mist.

Like the last mournful notes of a dirge, her wails fade away.  And ever so slowly, the mist recedes back into the lake.  Jake is left standing alone, a soft sad smile on his face as he stares at his hands.  It takes him a couple moments, but finally he turns to you and says, “It’s done. She won’t bother anyone ever again.”

One by one, lights begin to appear around the lake.  It takes you a moment to realize that behind each light is a beating heart.  A fairy.

They’re showing themselves to you, and holy hell, there are _thousands_ of them.  As the lights appear, they provide a soft glow to the area, allowing you to clearly see everything around you.  The grass, the lake, the trees, and all the moss covered homes of the pixies.

Despite the massive number of pixies, only one dares to approach you.  With a light “bampf” sound, he is suddenly standing at about your height beside you.  His wings are a regal blue hue, matching his eyes.  He’s dressed in formal flowing blue pixie garments.  Atop his head of dark hair, a crown is placed meticulously and carefully.  He pulls a pipe from his mouth and eyes you all fondly.  In a rich tenor voice he says, “thank you.”

Even Jake seems to realize that this is their king.  He bows courteously to him and replies, “it was our pleasure to aide you and your people.  Thank you for graciously allowing us into your land.”

“Oh, I had nothing to do with that.  I think you have someone else to thank,” he looks past Jake to where John is fluttering awkwardly in the air between the king and Dave.  The fairy king smiles warmly and holds his hands out invitingly.  “I am so proud of you, son.”

Son?  You glance critically between the two of them and realize that, yes, there does seem to be a strong family resemblance.  You flick your gaze over to Dave, who seems to be trying harder than ever not to show any emotion.  Clearly, Dave had no idea either.

John throws an apologetic look in Dave’s direction, then sighs and lands in his father’s hands.  He rolls his eyes and murmurs, “daaaaad, you’re going to embarrass me!”

“Why shouldn’t I be proud?  You’ve managed to cast a very complex spell to grant passage into our homeland, and you helped rid our people of the terrible banshee,” he gives John a silly lop-sided smile.  “Some day, you’ll be the most powerful fairy in the land.  Your mother would be proud too.”

“Aww dad thanks,” John finally smiles back, a look of exasperation on his face.  “But please don’t say any more embarrassing things!  My friends are here.”

“Why so they are.  And I insist that they all stay the night,” the fairy king says.  “It is impossible to pass the barrier until the morning, in any event.”

You find that it’s a little hard to say no to the king of the fairies.  And so you find yourselves being accosted with pixie dust and shrunken down to pixie size so that you can stay in the king’s palace.

Being pixie sized isn’t too different from being normal sized, you think.  The trees are taller, and the smell of the earth is a bit stronger, since you’re closer to the ground.  The biggest difference is John.  You’re not used to seeing him almost eye to eye.  Kid’s still a little shorter than you.

You realize just how impossible John’s hair truly is.  You’ve heard your little bro ramble on about it before, but you never bothered to look that closely at his gravity-defying locks. Clearly, combs are his enemy.  John’s face is soft and damn, Dave wasn’t kidding, his eyes are the bluest _blue_.

But you still have no interest in screwing him.  Whew.  Your radar is safe.

You know that your little bro is fucking ecstatic.  You’re 100% positive that it’s taking every bit of his willpower not to tackle John to the floor right now and make out with him.

You’ll give him shit for it later.  For now, you have a magical fairy castle to explore.  Rose would be so envious.

The king’s palace is a sight to behold.  Wrought from stone and wood, it feels reminiscent of the ancient castles of lore.  The air is temperate and pleasant, and a light breeze drifts in through the open windows.  The stone halls are long, lined with rich blue runners, and intricate metallic chandeliers hang from the ceilings high overhead.  You find it somewhat amusing that despite its enormity, standing at your usual height, you are normally taller than the castle.

The king insists that you join him for dinner.  The feast is nothing short of spectacular.  You only recognize the mallow fruit cheeses, dogwood fruit pears, and saffron cakes from stories and books.  The table is filled with several other foods, and you honestly have no idea what you’re eating.  You send a silent prayer to whatever deity exists that none of the food is holy.  All the food is sweet and filled with an exotic flavor you’ve never tasted before.  You bet Jane would kill to try this cooking.

In the corner of the room, a small group of fairy minstrels play unfamiliar songs on the violin, flute, and small wooden drums.  Occasionally one of the group sings a beautiful enchanting melody in the fairy tongue.  You have no idea what they’re saying, but the harmonies are wrought in patterns of mathematics that you never would have imagined placing together.  You find yourself spending longer than you should just trying to figure their harmonic formulas out.

The dining room is large, with elaborate decorative tapestries hanging from the walls.  The tapestries are ethereal, shimmering and shifting.  It makes no logical sense and quite honestly, it unsettles you a little bit.  But you decide to ignore the bizarre fairy food, music, and creations and focus instead on John’s father, who is currently asking you a question.

“So how long have you known my son?” he asks in a very pleasant yet somehow authoritative voice. 

“Since he joined us, about two centuries ago,” you reply.

“Has he been a good boy?”  the king asks.

“Daaad!” John moans, rolling his eyes.  “Remember what I said about embarrassing questions?”

“I remember,” John’s father says, a small smirk playing at his lips.  He turns back to you.  “So has he been a good boy?”

“ _DAAAAAD!!!_ ” John groans, falling back in his seat.

“John’s been a very valuable asset.  He saved all our lives a few months ago when we fought the demon Damara,” you respond.

“Did he?”  the fairy king beams at John happily.  “I’m so proud of you, son.”

“Thanks dad,” John’s response is small and muffled behind his clothing. He’s currently slouched down in the seat, hiding in embarrassment.

“My, it’s been quite some time since I’ve had a good dogwood pear.  Your cooking is simply smashing!” Jake exclaims, cutting into his third pear of the evening.

That was random.  You glance at Jake, ready to tell him off, but he looks so content and happy with his pear that you can’t find it in yourself to make even the smallest cutting remark.  So instead, you’re happy just to watch him. 

It isn’t until you hear a snort from Dave’s direction that you realize you’re staring.  Like he has any room to talk.  Dave’s been staring at John all evening. 

The rest of dinner goes by passably well.  John’s father makes idle conversation with all of you, and you finish up the meal without event.  Dave looks increasingly uncomfortable as time passes, but you doubt anyone else can tell. 

If there’s one thing Bro taught you both well, it was how to maintain the best poker face in the worst situations.  Like meeting your boyfriend’s father for the first time who happens to be the king of the fairies.

After dinner, you’re shown to your rooms for the evening.  The guest room that you’re sharing with Jake is cozy.  The handmade wooden dresser, wash basin, and desk are quaint yet elegant.  A large fluffy plush bed sits in the middle just pleading you to use it.  Jake just fed your inner incubus yesterday, and you’re still doing all right.  But you are still looking forward to sharing that bed with him.

Soon, bed.  Soon.

First, you want to make sure everything is ok with your bro.  As Jake is washing up for the evening, you slip out of your room and stealthily make your way down the hall.

It doesn’t take long for you to find John and his father talking in the library.  You only get a glimpse of them sitting across from each other in chairs before you duck back into the hallway.  Dave suddenly flash-steps beside you.  You glance at him inquiringly, to which he merely shrugs.

“You seem to be getting along well with those other hunters,” John’s father remarks.

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool,” John admits.

“And the one in red.  Dave, was that his name?  He’s your partner, correct?”  the king asks.

John hesitates for a moment before stammering, “yeah, yeah he is.”

A few moments pass by in uncomfortable silence. You cast your gaze again at Dave, and this time, he looks positively frightened.  His face is tense, and the muscles of his neck are taut with tension.

Eventually, John’s father says, “you know, son, no matter what you say, nothing can change how proud I am of you.  You will always be my son, and I’ll always love you.”

In a quiet voice, John murmurs, “you know already, don’t you?  About me and Dave?”

“He may wear those sunglasses all day and night, but I see how he looks at you,” the king responds.  “I see how much he loves you.  And how much you love him.”

You hear John squirm in his seat.  “You’re not disappointed are you?”

“Disappointed?  I could never be disappointed in you.  Son, I can’t pretend to know what it feels like to love someone like him. You know what I mean. I know that it must not be easy, but you’ve never been one to take the easy way out.  You’ve always fought and given it your all,” the king says.  There’s a rustling, and you think he’s probably risen from his chair.  Another rustling is probably John getting up too.  “The only sadness I have is that this will be difficult for you.  I love you, son.  And I’m proud of you.  I’m proud that you’re not afraid to love who you love.”

“Dad—” John murmurs.  His voice is wavering, and you know he’s probably crying.  You hear the rustling of fabric and know that the two are probably embracing.

You chance a glance over at Dave and murmur, “and you were worried.”

“Better fucking believe I was,” he mutters back.  “You’re lucky Jake doesn’t have any parents.”

You’re actually not so sure how true that statement is.  Jake said himself that his father was no longer around.  Does he have a mother?  You suppose like everything else, he will tell you in time.

You hear footsteps moving towards the door, and in an invisible flash of speed, both you and Dave are gone back to your respective rooms.  John squeals in a quiet but excited voice as he passes by your room, “Dave! _Dave!!_   Guess what?!”  He throws Dave’s door open and shuts it behind him.

You’re pretty sure you know where things are going from here.  You won’t be visiting your little bro’s room tonight.

Jake is waiting for you when you get back.  He’s—oh fucking hell. He’s practically _naked_ on the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers.  Today it’s green aliens.  He’s reading a book and waiting for you.  When he hears you enter, he glances up with a bright smile.  “You know, these fairy books don’t make a lick of sense!”

“That’s because they’re written in the ancient fairy language,” you explain.

Jake shakes his head.  “No, no it’s not that.  I can read it.  It just doesn’t make any sense! Why haven’t any of these children’s stories been made into movies?  They have such fantastic plots!  I’m certain they would be smashing hits in the box office!”

You sift through Jake’s ridiculous thought process to the important nugget of what he just said.  “Wait.  You can read this?”

He blinks at your in earnest.  “Certainly!  Can’t you?”

“No, I can’t,” you respond slowly.

Holy fucking hell. Jake English can do something you can’t do.  But how is that even possible? This language is easily over a millennia old.  You think maybe Bro knows how to read it?  But Jake?  Why would _Jake_ know how?

So you ask him. “Jake, how do you know the fairy language?”

“Well, it was the common tongue at one point,” Jake explains, as if it were the most obvious thing in the whole world.  He chews his lower lip in thought for a moment before continuing, “It wasn’t until the fey were threatened by the war between mortals and supernatural beings that they chose to seclude themselves into obscurity.”

It takes you all of .5 seconds to process what that really means.

Jake is old.  Way older than you.

You never would have imagined it.  Jake, your dorky bumbling boyfriend, who has no sense of up from down half of the time—how could he possibly be so much older than you?  That war took place over a thousand years ago.  And while you were _technically_ alive at that point, Bro put you and Dave to sleep for centuries after that.  But that story is long and complicated, and you aren’t going to let it distract you right now.

You take quite some time mentally debating asking the question.  In the end, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you finally ask, “Jake, how old are you?”

Jake laughs lightly, and the smile lingers on his face as he says, “Oh, I’ve been around forever, Dirk.”

That wasn’t exactly an answer.  You’re really not sure how to take that.

Your silence speaks for you, and Jake’s laughter transforms quickly into sympathy.  He casts you a pitying glance and says, “don’t feel bad, old chap. I can teach you the fairy language if you’d like!”

Good old Jake.  Always assuming the wrong meaning.

You don’t say anything, and he continues, “It’s not too bad once you work past the horrendous vernacular.  Here, I can show you a thing or two.”

And so you sit next to your mostly naked boyfriend as he teaches you more than a thing or two about the fairy language.  You lean comfortably into him, watching in earnest as he excitedly points out familiar pixie symbols.  Jake’s right, the language is wordy but not too difficult to pick up.

When Jake has had his fill of teaching you the ancient language, he tosses the book aside onto the floor.  You both scoot underneath the covers, and you don’t hesitate to collect him into your arms.  Jake laughs a bit at the gesture but leans fondly into your embrace. 

“Dirk, that thing you did back there earlier,” Jake says softly, unexpectedly.

“Hmm?” You hum back lightly, trying to think of what “thing” Jake is talking about.

“When you pushed me out of the way of the banshee,” he clarifies.  Lightly, he runs his fingertips along your chest, tracing circles and other soft shapes in your skin.  “You did that to save me, didn’t you?”

“I can’t lose you, Jake,” you murmur back, drawing him to you closer, embracing him tighter. 

He returns the hug and rests his head on your chest, sighing softly.  You can feel how content he is right now.  His happiness. His love.

Wait.  Love?

You check again, and sure enough, there is a warmth blooming in his heart that you never noticed before.  It’s small, barely a candle in the vast sea of Jake, but it’s there.

Safe in the darkness of the room, you smile and silently vow never to let that flame go out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays one and all! I've broken my Update Thursday rule to bring you this a couple days fashionably late. Hope you enjoyed! This is *gasp* the last chapter of the year! The next chapter will be here in the new year!
> 
> Btw, I have a tumblr, if anyone here does that. There just might be a couple mediocre sketches of Fairy John, but I caution, I'm not an artist! Viewer Beware. 
> 
> Mah Tumblrrrr: http://lateniteslacker.tumblr.com/


	10. The Never-Ending Bath Scene

****

**Dirk == > Mack on Jake** 

He’s still sleeping. Don’t you think that’s a little creepy?  Yeah, you do.

You wake up the next morning with a splitting headache.  Glaring blearily around the room, you realize exactly why.

You’re still in the fucking fairy forest.

Jake is sound asleep next to you, and he doesn’t even move when you stealthily extricate yourself from the bed.  You take a few minutes to wash up as best you can before throwing on the same clothes you were wearing before (gross in your opinion) and make your way out the door.

You’re in search for a shower, bath, or even an extremely public lake to bathe in when you run into Dave.  Quite literally.

Your little bro actually winces a little bit when he crashes into you after rounding a corner.  You notice the disheveled state of his hair and raise an eyebrow.  “Looking for a shower too?”

He nods and mutters, “it’s like the fucking Labyrinth in here, and David Bowie is making me his little bitch holding a shower hostage instead of a little brother. Whatever, I don’t trust a guy that stuffs a cucumber down his pants anyway.”

You smirk back and point out, “he claims he didn’t.”

“Yeah whatever, like I believe that.  I’ve seen enough dicks to know when someone’s full of shit,” Dave mutters.  It looks like he’s tempted to say more, but for once he somehow miraculously holds his tongue.  Instead, he asks, “don’t suppose you know which way to go?”

You really don’t, but you’re not about to tell Dave that.  Instead, you jerk your head to the left and say, “this way.”

As you’re walking down the corridors of the palace, you notice something that makes you mentally pause in interest.  It’s so minor a detail that you doubt anyone else would even notice, but Dave has been your brother for a very long time.  Nothing gets by you.

Dave’s limping.

You find it interesting, considering incubi heal very quickly.  Especially when they’ve been fed.  And you have a pretty good feeling that John didn’t hesitate to show Dave his affections last night.  You quirk an eyebrow at him and ask, “rough night?”

Dave grumbles, “you’re just as bad as Bro.”

“Just lookin’ out for ya, lil’ man,” you respond, letting a bit of your accent bleed into your words.  When it’s just you and Dave, sometimes you don’t bother to hide it.  It’s not like Dave doesn’t know you lived in Texas for a while. He lived there too.

Dave sighs and shakes his head.  He pauses in the middle of the hallway.  When you stop and turn to face him, he leans in a little closer to you, lowers his voice, and mutters, “John’s—he’s got—he’s holy?  And when he finished, I didn’t heal up like usual?  I don’t fucking know!”

You’re stricken.  It takes all of your Strider skill not to bust out laughing.  You know that you should be pitying your dear brother, but you can’t help the tiny smirk that comes to your lips.

Dave notices immediately, of course, and he shoves you away.  “Oh fuck you!  Like I chose to—”

“Dave,” you say, quieting his rant.  “Sorry dude, it’s just kind of funny.  You’ve gotta admit that.”

“It is _not_ funny,” Dave growls back.

“Yeah, ok, if I were in your shoes I wouldn’t think it was funny either,” you admit.  “But you don’t look that worse for wear.  Does it hurt?”

“Just a little,” he murmurs.  “Is this what regular humans feel like every time?  Fuck, it must suck for them.”

You shrug and offer, “some are better at accommodating than others.  You know that.”  You pause for a moment, gazing critically at Dave.  “And some are just hung better.”

The light flush that comes to his already too-pale cheeks is all the answer you need.  But it does help that he insistently stammers, “fuck you, man.”

You decide to have pity on your little bro and instead settle for patting his shoulder and walking away.  “Let’s find you a shower.”

“Thought you knew where you were going?” Dave mutters, still sounding a little bitter.

“I do.” 

You don’t.

About five minutes later, you find yourselves outside in a secluded little glen.  A small pool of clear water is surrounded by trees.  Next to the side of the pool, there are sponges, buckets, and towels that clearly mark this particular pool as a bathing pool. Oh, and even if it wasn’t a bathing pool, there’s one other little thing that would make you want to bathe here anyway.

Jake’s already there.

“Good day, old chaps!” he shouts jovially, waving from where he’s standing in the middle of the pool.  “I say, the water is quite crisp!  Care to join me?”

You and Dave both share a glance.  Your little bro shrugs and mutters, “he’s _your_ boyfriend.”

At one point in time, you probably had both shame and humility.  But given your incubus nature, both are long gone.  Screwing thousands of people will help a person get over that.  So, you don’t really care if a billion fairies are watching you or not, and you don’t hesitate to shrug off your clothes in the broad daylight. You even leave your shades in the small clothing pile, noticing that Jake left his glasses aside too.

You kind of forget Dave’s even there and focus on joining Jake in the water that is indeed quite “crisp.”

It’s nice having nothing between your eyes and his.  You can see his deep emerald hue much better this way.  And though you will love Jake no matter what he wears, you do think he’s quite handsome ditching the glasses.  Part of you knows that you’ll have to be very careful not to inadvertently place him under your suggestion, but that’s a risk you are willing to take.

“How’d you beat us out here?” You ask, wrapping your arms around Jake and leaning in, touching your forehead to his.  

You feel it instantly.  His happiness and love.  You feel a warmth mirroring his in your own chest, ecstatic yourself that his love is still there. It didn’t go out overnight.  You’re helpless to stop the happy grin that spreads across your lips.

Jake smiles, embracing you back.  You feel the bar of soap that he brought out with him on your back, and you wonder if the pixies are going to throw a fit or not.  Whatever, you’ve had to deal with their spiteful forest, they can deal with a little soap. “Didn’t you look out the window in the room? It leads right out here!”  He says, pointing up to a window quite high up.

“You jumped?”

“Well, I thought I’d give your rocket-board a whirl.  I still have that.  Err- _had_ that,” he admits, glancing aside very suspiciously.

“Jaaaaaake—” the way you trail his name makes him flinch a little bit.  “What happened to my rocketboard?”

“It might have disappeared into the trees that way and dumped me into this lake?”  he explains.  “Sorry if I broke it.”

You want to give him a hard time, because that guilty face he’s making is so adorable.  But you also don’t want to make Jake feel bad.  So instead, you shrug and answer honestly, “I’ll just fix it.”

Jake seems somewhat relieved by that answer, and his grip loosens on you, his hands slipping down lower on your back.  You hum lightly at the feeling of his bare skin against yours, loving the feeling of his honest joy as you taste his energy just a bit.  He’s so simple, so warm, so happy.  How the hell is he so much older than you?

“Ugh.  Little brother?  Right here? If you’re gonna get your mack on, could you at least wait until I’m gone?” Dave asks, splashing some water over at you from where he’s bathing on the complete opposite side of the pool.  “Talk about awkward.”

You’re inclined to ignore him and keep sampling Jake’s delicious energy, but your boyfriend has far more shame than you.  His cheeks flush after Dave’s comment, and he hastily pulls away from you.  “I-I suppose we should focus on the bathing we came here to do!” he stammers, returning to vigorously scrubbing beneath his arms with the bar of soap.

Swiftly, you catch his wrist, and snatch the soap out of his hand.  When he glances at you in question, you give him a fond look and say, “allow me.”

Slowly, sensually, you begin sliding the soap along Jake’s skin.  You start at his left shoulder, rubbing circles with both the soap and your fingers.  You allow your fingertips to dance across his skin, especially the sensitive place at the crook of his neck that makes him gasp.  As you run the soap down his arm, you massage little circles into his muscles, appreciating his lean strength.  Ghosting your fingers along the underside of his arm makes him flinch ever so slightly, and his energy prickles with a light sensation of—ticklishness?  You smirk, you’ll have to remember that for later.

You lightly pull at each of his fingers, taking care to wash clean the dirt that has caked beneath his nails from exploring the forest yesterday.  Then you move on to his chest, feeling the warmth of his beating heart beneath his skin.  It may be your imagination, but you feel like the gentle fire of his love is stronger here. Before soaping it, you place a kiss atop his chest where his heart lays.

Jake sighs softly, bringing his hand to your cheek.  His hand still has soap on it, but you don’t mind.  You have plans for Jake, and a little soap isn’t going to hurt anything.  If anything, it’s going to help.

His abdomen is next.  While his chest didn’t sport all that much hair, the trail leading from his navel to his dick is dense with thick dark hair.  He flinches when you twist your fingers through the trail.  Again?  Lucky you.  Looks like Jake is ticklish in more than one place.

You finish washing his other arm and move on to his back.  The muscles beneath his skin are bulky and tight.  You remember hearing once that this means he’s holding his tension in his back.  But what tension could he be holding?

You have no idea.  What could possibly be bothering your carefree boyfriend?  He never seems to be upset by anything. 

The way you see it, he only has two possible stressors in his life: his work and you.  But Jake loves the work you do.  The more dangerous, the more “exciting” it is to him.  The more arduous, the more “fun” he sees it.

You suppose that _you_ could be the thing that’s stressing him, but Jesus fucking Christ, you just started dating a week ago.  Aside from your little tryst a couple nights ago, and the occasional kiss here and there, it isn’t as if your relationship even changed much after becoming boyfriends.

You could be wrong about it, though you’re 95% certain you aren’t, but you don’t think that you are the thing stressing Jake.

Whatever it is, Jake must not have told you about it yet.  It’s the only conclusion that makes sense.

Though you’re worried about him, you don’t want Jake to catch on.  So, you don’t stop sweeping the bar of soap across his back as you think all of these things, working your fingers around his skin, instinctively rubbing at the tense knots that have you concerned.

You decide not to fret about what you can’t control.  Jake will tell you eventually.

So, you move along, dipping the soap below the water level and dragging it slowly across his nice ass.  Fuck do you love his ass.  You can’t resist squeezing his left cheek after soaping it up, making Jake squeak a bit in surprise.

You’re vaguely aware of Dave splashing frantically to get out of the pool, and good riddance.  Internally, you smirk.  Now you can do things you might not have done in front of him.

Jake gasps as you dip the soap between his legs, rubbing it along his inner thigh.  “I don’t suppose I could convince you to let me wash these parts myself, could I?” he asks softly.

“Mm-mm,” you hum in the negative.  The sounds that catch in the back of Jake’s throat as you gently trace your fingers along his skin are too tempting to resist.

You decide it’s time to up the ante.  Lightly, you press a kiss into the back of Jake’s neck, and the soft gasp that catches in his throat makes you struggle to keep your own self control.  You want to _grab him_ , and _take him,_ and _consume his very soul_.

You are so glad that Jake can’t see your eyes right now, because you know it will be hard to stop yourself from suggesting more at this point.  Instead, you dip your head below the surface of the water, and move on to wash his lower half.

Thankfully, you don’t have to worry about breathing.  You slide the bar down Jake’s outer thighs first, then move down to his feet.  Jake causes you to grin as he wiggles his toes uncomfortably when you wash the bottom of his feet.  As you rub the soap along the backs of his legs, you smirk again, noting that muscles in his legs tense when you touch the area just behind his knees. 

Ticklish data stored for later.

You move to Jake’s inner thighs, approaching the dense tangle of hair between his legs and your prize within it several times only to back away.  You think Jake’s saying something, but you can’t really tell what it is from under the water.

But you can sense him.  You can feel his steadily growing frustration, and you can see the evidence of his want growing between his legs.  Impatient as always, Jake begins to steadily lean into your touches, not so stealthily moving his dick closer to your hands when you approach it with the soap.

But every time, you back down.  And every time, you feel the need building within him.

Such a fucking tease.  That’s you.

And then you remember something.  Jake and public displays of affection don’t really mix.  You’re certain that there must be fairies all around by this time of the day, so why is Jake so willing?

What if he isn’t?  What if it’s actually _you_ that wants this?  _You_ that placed the suggestion in his head?

Your hands pause in their work as you think about it, letting go of Jake’s legs. Almost instantly, Jake’s hands plunge beneath the surface of the water, grasp yours, and place them back on his skin. 

Aggressive, isn’t he?  You love it.  It fuels a delicious fire of want inside you, and you’re certain you’ve never wanted to fuck someone as much as you want to fuck Jake English.  Or have him fuck you.  You honestly don’t care.

Because with anyone else, you know exactly what you would do.  You would tease him until he begged you for release, then you would fuck him, drink his life’s energy, and wipe away his memories, leaving him with nothing to remember you by in the morning.  You would use him but keep his heart intact, leaving only yours to sink deeper into the dark depths of loneliness.

But this isn’t anyone else.  This is Jake.  You love him and aren’t about to hurt him with the darkness inside you.

Your mind made up, you surface, letting the water splash behind you.  You quickly run both hands through your hair, slicking it back out of your eyes so that you can see Jake.  _Really_ see Jake.

“I thought you didn’t need to breathe?” Jake asks, sounding a little impatient.

“I don’t. Chill.  I just need to ask you something,” you say.  You watch his bright green eyes for any sign of doubt, being careful not to leave any of your own influence as you ask, “do you really want this Jake?”

Jake stares at you, a frown slowly forming on his lips.  “What are you going on about now?”

That’s right.  This is _Jake_ you’re talking to.  Better be a little more blunt.  “Do you want me to suck your dick?  Do you want sex?  We’re in the middle of the fucking fairy forest.  In a magic bathing pool.  Probably surrounded by little voyeur fairies just waiting to get a glimpse of this hot bod, and I’ll have to tell them sorry, this is all Jake’s.”

Jake laughs, pressing his hands to your chest.  He’s warm.  He’s genuine.  He’s happy.  “Stop stop!  You’re starting to sound like your brother!  The Dave brother!”

“Little shit learned from the best,” you agree.  “But seriously, Jake, I don’t want to push anything on you that you don’t want.  You know that.”

Jake sighs, almost in exasperation this time.  “Yes, I know that.  Would it help if I did this?”

He does something you really aren’t expecting next.  He takes your hands, and places them on top of his rock hard dick.  “Dirk, I want this.  I want you to touch me.  I want to fuck you.”

“That escalated quickly,” you murmur.

“Dirk, you’ve been cockteasing me for fifteen minutes already!” Jake growls back in a way that definitely does not go straight to your dick.

Oh who are you kidding?  It went straight to your dick.  Still, you manage to chuckle and say, “fifteen minutes? Baby, that ain’t nothing.”

You would have said more, but Jake shuts you up rather quickly, leaning the extra few inches forward and bringing your lips together.  His kiss is sweet, but it’s also needy.  His lips meld to yours and if you didn’t know better, you would think _he_ was trying to pull the life-force from _you._  It’s hot, and you love it.  You can feel Jake’s anticipation of what’s to come on his tongue.

Heh.  Come on his tongue?  Not any time soon, you don’t think.

Jake digs his fingernails into your back, pulling you closer to him.  He gasps lightly when your dicks finally make contact.

Oh, hello boner.  Didn’t realize you were there.  But since you are…

You decide that Jake must want this.  It’s not your influence this time.  So you waste no time grabbing his fine rump and pulling him to you, grinding your hardness to his.  He catches the sound of a cry in the back of his throat this time, not quite fully letting it go.  Internally, you frown.  You’ll have none of that.

So you let your hands drift a little higher, up to his waist.  Then you pull him casually over to the side of the pool.  One last time, you murmur, “you’re sure you don’t mind voyeur fairies?”

“Ballocks Dirk!  Which of us is the incubus?” he asks, sealing the deal.

You lean back against the edge of the bathing pool.  It’s earthen and soft, but somehow the fairies have worked magic into it so that none of the dirt comes off on your skin or dirties the pool.  For once, you’re a little grateful you’re in the fairy forest.

Jake is quick to lean into you, his dense muscular frame draped over you and his lips again on yours.  Making out with Jake just might be one of the best things ever.  In every touch, you feel his growing elation, his delight, and his raw _need._   It’s a need you crave to satisfy, and you’ll let him take you as soon as he seems to be ready.

Jake whines a bit in the back of his throat again, grinding his dick into yours.  You immediately thrust back up, creating more deliciously warm friction. It’s difficult to find purchase in this pool, but against the side, and with Jake pressed so tightly against you, you can easily feel every dip and ridge in his body.  Every muscle.  Every time part of his warm skin brushes against yours. 

For several minutes, it’s an all out grinding, kissing, and making out war.  You find yourself pushed back farther and farther against the bank of the pool until you’re left with no direction to go except _Jake_.  And yes, you’ve decided that Jake is definitely a direction.

So you move toward Jake, letting your hands roam free across his skin, your fingernails digging into places that make him hiss and raking through his hair in ways that make him moan softly with pleasure.  Jake finally fixes his gaze on you, and you can tell from the look in his brilliant green eyes that he wants you.

Jake’s ready.  And he wants you.  He wants you _badly_.

At some point, Jake discarded the soap along the side of the pool.  You are quick to snatch it up.  Coating a few fingers in the slippery substance, you are quick to prepare yourself.  Not so much because you need the preparation.  One benefit of being an incubus is your “ability” (you use that term loosely here) to not need much or any preparation for sex.  After all, what self-appreciating incubus isn’t ready to romp 100% of the time?

Really, it’s more for Jake’s comfort that you slide three then four fingers in and out of yourself. You don’t waste much time with it, and as you slick just a bit more soap inside yourself, you smirk at him and ask, “you know how this works?”

“I think I have an idea,” he murmurs, his lust-laden eyes on your fingers as they work you.

“Good, explaining things is so awkward,” you mutter back.  Then, you lean back against the bank and use your arms to pull yourself out of the water.  By some stroke of luck, the bank of the pool is about the same height as his dick.  Your ass and his line up perfectly.  Win.

You heave an exaggerated sigh, tossing your hair aside all for show, and slide your feet to each side, giving him a generous view of yourself.

And all Jake does is stare.  His mouth opens slightly. He seems transfixed.  You really _really_ hope it’s in a good way, but you aren’t going to get your hopes up.

You frown slightly.  “Dude, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now,” you murmur.

“N-no!  Not at all, old chap!” he stammers, his gaze finally falling to your eyes.  “I’ve just—never been with a man before.”

Oh no.  That’s right.  You’re Jake’s first boyfriend.  What if he—

Before you can even think farther, Jake smiles shyly at you.  Softly, he says, “you’re beautiful.”

Had anyone else said that, you would have left right there.  Your hunger be damned.  You would have stood up, gracefully given him the bird, and walked away without a word.

But when Jake says it, your heart melts.  You can feel his sincerity, see the earnestness behind his eyes, and sense his happiness and elation to be with _you_. 

You.  Nobody else.  _You._

You’ve never been happier in your entire fucking life.  And when Jake finally moves forward, slowly, cautiously lining himself up with you, that happiness only grows.  He pushes into you carefully, like he doesn’t want to break you.  As if he could.  But still, the thought makes you smile.  Jake is cautious because he doesn’t want to hurt you.   He cares about you.

He loves you.

The thought makes you gasp, and he glances at you sharply, the concern evident in his expression.  “Keep going, English.  You’re doing great.”  You will yourself to offer as little resistance as possible.  Slowly, carefully, he slides into you, filling you with his delicious warmth.

You feel it when he’s fully inside you.  Not just because the fuzz around his dick has met your balls, but because you can sense the overwhelming emotion coming from Jake.  You know before he does it that he’s going to lean over and kiss you.

So when he does, you eagerly meet his lips, your tongue greeting his and pulling at him playfully.  You love this man.  You love him so much.

He keeps kissing you as he slowly, almost experimentally, moves out and then back into you.  You give him a small hum of encouragement.  He’s doing things right.  Hell, you don’t think Jake can really do anything wrong at this point.

You start rolling your hips in time to meet him, and you feel the pleasure wrack through him, from his core, through his arms and legs, to his fingers and toes, and into you.  His energy is so fucking wonderful.  It’s so Jake.

He starts picking up the pace, and it isn’t long before you can feel his breath quickening, his body beginning to shudder with want.  You grip his butt tighter, pulling him into you harder.  He isn’t trying to contain the small whines anymore, and it’s music to your ears.

He loves you he loves you he loves you.

You love him you love him you love him.

Jake’s body tenses, his movements becoming sharper, more forceful.  You know he’s close.  You are too.  And if you time this right—

Jake stills, and you feel the warmth of his love spilling inside you.  You allow yourself a deep throated growl, one you usually hold back so as not to scare people.  But this is Jake.  Somehow, you know he will accept you for what you are regardless of what you do.

A second later, you’re coming with him, squeezing the plushness of his rump tighter, letting yourself spill everywhere between yourself and him.  It’s a fucking unbelievably crazy high. 

The burning fire of his energy surrounds you like lava, completely carrying you away.  For a few moments, you simply stop being.  You aren’t. 

There’s only Jake.  Jake’s happiness.  Jake’s love.

A few moments later, you come back to yourself to find your hands stroking Jake’s back lightly.  He’s still laying on top of you, panting softly from the exertion.  Your come is everywhere.  It makes one giant sticky mess, and you guess it’s a good thing there’s a bathing pool nearby.  Have you ever come this much in your life?  How the hell could loving someone affect that? 

Jake finally props himself up on his elbows, grinning at you lopsidedly.  “Well, Strider, that was quite a go,” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah.  Yeah it was,” you agree lightly.

“I don’t suppose you would care for a bath again?” he asks, his grin growing wider.  “Perhaps you will allow me the honor of bathing you this time?”

Even though you just had literally mind-blowing sex, he’s fucking planning something. It’s something stupid.  Something John might do.  But you can’t seem to bring yourself to mind right now.  “Yeah, sure.”

His smile is so wide that it practically splits his face in two. You grip onto him tighter instinctively.  Here it comes.  Here it fucking comes.

Jake lifts you off the ground with those oversized biceps, and tosses you into the middle of the pool.  The splash is so huge it knocks a good amount of water out of the pool, showering at least a couple dozen fairies that were sitting around, invisibly watching you two go at it.  And that’s just the fairies nearby.

Voyeur fairies.  You fucking knew it.

The fairies, now revealed as the perverts they are, shriek and quickly fly away.  Jake’s face turns a shade of crimson that you adore on him.  When he looks at you, a small shy grin on his face and a bar of soap in his hand, you’re certain of two things.

Jake English is a huge dork.  But you are absolutely in love with him. 

You wouldn’t have him any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earned its title because I seriously thought the bath scene would never end.
> 
> You. This is all your fault. You know who you are!


	11. The Midnight Crew

The next few days you spend in quiet comfortable peace with Jake.  You manage to repair your rocketboard within a day and hightail it out of the fairy forest asap.  Dave immediately whines and complains, and you promise to bring him back sometime soon if he just shuts up about it.

Dave miraculously waits an entire hour before pestering you to bring him and John back.  You promptly begin ignoring even more of what your lil’ bro says.

Meanwhile, your other bro seems oddly pensive.  Bro fist-bumps you and Dave when you both get back.  Though he doesn’t say a word about it, you know that he _knows_ what happened in the fairy forest.  Thankfully, he spares you both the excruciatingly awkward sex talk he totally could have given for mega ironies.

It’s not like Bro at all.  Usually, he doesn’t hesitate to embarrass the shit out of you both.  You would think that both of his younger brothers finally boning their boyfriends in the same trip would be more than enough fuel to light the sick fires of his ironic innuendos.

But Bro doesn’t bring it up.  In fact, the way that he looks at you and Jake is almost—sad?  You don’t even want to think about what that means.

You’ve noticed that he’s come into work disheveled quite a few times at this point.  You aren’t entirely certain why, but he seems to be visiting his lady friend more often than usual.  You wonder what made him so masochistic.  You really hope he gets over it soon.

But enough about Bro.  He hands you your assignments day in and day out and doesn’t say much more to you than usual.  

Jake has, much to your dismay, reverted to being completely oblivious to your incubus needs.  It’s weird, because he still insists on feeding you breakfast every day, and he begs you to sleep with him every night.

Jake loves to cuddle.  He’ll cuddle the shit out of you.

But he never starts anything.  You thought it would be nice to let Jake initiate things for a change.  To make sure he was comfortable with the pace you’re taking this relationship.  But not once has he even made a suggestive glance in your direction.

He’s all about watching the latest shitty films and playing videogames though.  At least the bromance is still going strong.

And his love.  You can definitely feel it now.  It’s a warm and gentle fire that burns within him constantly.  It’s there every time he looks at you and touches you.  It’s in his carefree laughter, his smile, and hell, you’d even say it’s in the breakfast he makes for you every morning.

A little over a week has passed since your time in the fairy forest.  You’ve given Jake his space.  Given him time.  But you don’t think you can wait too much longer for him to come around.

And so it is that when he walks past you this morning, you grab him and pull him down to your level, where you’ve stopped eating your waffles and oatmeal.  Jake doesn’t have time to even utter an exclamation before you pull him forcefully into your embrace, trapping his lips between your own.

He tastes like the cinnamon coffee he made this morning, and like oatmeal cut with pears.  It’s a uniquely Jakeish combination.  It’s heaven.

A few seconds later, you let him go, smacking your lips at the tasty energy you pulled from him. 

“G-goodness Dirk, there are children present!” Jake stammers, a soft flush rising to his cheeks.

“Clearly you’re not talking about Dave and John.  Because those two are far less innocent than you think,” you comment, rubbing your index finger under your chin in mock-thought.  “You talking about all my smuppets?  They’re like my children.  Hand sewed every one of them.”

You grin, the thought bringing back a memory. Four days ago, John begged you to help him pull off a prank on Dave.  He didn’t need to ask twice.  You temporarily cleared out all your cabinets and your entire refrigerator, filling them to the brim with smuppets.  At John’s request, you even strategically placed a bucket over the bathroom door filled with smuppets.

Dave fell for it all.  He squeaked in surprise when the smuppets in the bathroom showered over his head.  He growled at the smuppets in the fridge, and he started totally wigging out as every cabinet he opened doused him with your favorite plush toys.

It was like having your little teenage bro back again. 

Of course, he ruined most of your precious smuppets.  He always had a fetish for decapitating them.  But it wasn’t a huge deal really.  Just one night of crappy movies with Jake and you were able to mend them all back to perfection.

Jake sits down beside you, bringing you back to the present moment.  He reaches over and rubs a hand fondly over your own.  He’s gentle, full of love, and full of concern.  The warmth of his energy is like a beacon to your hungry incubus side, and you can’t help pulling some of his energy from him, more than just your usual taste.

He must notice, because he gasps softly.  Jake looks down at your hands and then back up at you.  His brows furrow slightly and he asks, “Dirk?”

Oh shit.  There you go again, filling him with your suggestion.  Quickly, you separate your hands and take a slow deep breath to calm yourself down.  You don’t answer him.  Suddenly, you don’t want to have to bring it up.  Even though you had amazing sex last time, and Jake certainly didn’t seem to mind that, you wouldn’t be able to take it if Jake rejected you.

You’re getting foolish again, and you know it.  You know Bro would scold you for it, and probably lock you and Jake in his office again and force you to “fix your shit.”  But you can’t bring it up.  You can’t lose him.  You can’t.

“Is something the matter?” Jake asks again, peering closer at you.  Before you know it, he’s reaching for your shades.

Instinctively, you flinch away.  Jake pauses, but his fingers reach for your shades again, determination in his eyes.  This time, you let him slowly pull them away from your face.  He gazes at you softly, gently placing a hand on your cheek.  You sigh and lean into his touch, trying your best not to take any energy from him or to suggest anything. 

“Dirk, I want you to be completely honest with me,” Jake says, looking at you with those passionate I-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer eyes. 

You chuckle, softly and somewhat bitterly.  “You shouldn’t look at my eyes right now, English,” you tell him quietly.  “Don’t know what I might make you do.”

“I’m not afraid,” Jake says, completely seriously.  “Tell me.”

“Do you really need me to tell you this every time?” you finally sigh.  “Jake, I’m an _incubus._   You know what I need.”

For a moment, Jake doesn’t say anything.  He doesn’t react in any way.  You decide to wait and let him come to the realization on his own.

You wait.

Any second now.

Finally, Jake gasps, figuring it out.  “You mean to say—” he pauses, his words trailing away.

“Yes.  The same fucking thing as last time,” you agree with his unfinished statement. 

“A-already?” Jake stammers.   “Are you completely certain?”

You roll your eyes at him, but you humor him with a response.  “I’m pretty sure.”

“But I thought—,” he trails off for a moment, frowning.  “I thought that eating human food would decrease your need to—you know.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Jake.  I told you that,” you sigh softly.  You’re both silent for a few moments, staring intently into each other’s eyes.  Finally, you draw a breath and ask, “Jake, maybe after tonight’s target we could—?”

“D-Dirk, I—”Jake gulps, and you think you see him visibly begin to panic.  He glances away from you, toward the window, faint perspiration at the edges of his hairline.  He doesn’t look back at you as he finishes with, “—I don’t know.”

Oh fuck.  Oh fuck _fuck **fuck FUCK**_.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You ask tentatively, hiding your inner turmoil behind your practiced Strider mask.

“I don’t know, can it—” he pauses again.  Jake looks back at you, his brows furrowed but a tiny bit of hope in his eyes.  “—can it wait a couple days or so?”

Can it? 

You think of John.

You want to screw John.

“No, it can’t,” you reply, certain that your voice is laden with regret.  If Jake doesn’t want to have sex with you, then you’re only left with two options.  Find someone else to screw or die.  “Jake if you don’t want to—”

“I-I want to!” he stammers quickly, cutting you off.  “Dirk, I lov— I care about you more than you know. It’s just—”

You watch him carefully as his voice yet again trails away.  Did he almost say what you think he almost said?  Not that you didn’t know it already, but damn it would have been nice to hear it from his lips. You don’t say anything, though, because you want to hear what he has to say.  Somehow, you get the feeling this is big.  Bigger than just not wanting to have sex with you.

“You know what? Nevermind,” he finishes, giving you a small reassuring smile.  At least, you think the smile was meant to be reassuring, but you can tell from his strained expression that something is still bothering him.  “Tonight after work?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you agree slowly.  Then, you add on, “you know, if there’s something you want to tell me, you can say it.  I won’t judge you or anything.  I’ve had sex with people of all persuasions with a fuck-ton of problems.  I really doubt you can surprise me.”

Jake laughs a small and hollow laugh. “I really think I can,” he murmurs so quietly that a normal person might have missed it.

But you aren’t a normal person, and you definitely heard that.  The way he said that makes you wonder, could this be what Jane was talking about?  Is this the big secret about Jake that even the all mighty Jane Croker couldn’t handle?

You are insanely curious now.  What could possibly be such a big deal that Jane would give up the man she loved? And how does that have _anything_ to do with him not wanting to have sex with you? It doesn’t seem like those two things should be related at all.

But you already offered to listen to anything he wanted to say.  And he still hasn’t said anything yet.  You’re starting to wonder just why he wouldn’t trust you with this secret.  True, you have only known him for about half a year, but he should know you by now.  He should know that you would never be capable of leaving him, no matter how terrible his secret is.  You couldn’t even fathom the thought, because your heart has been so empty for so long.  You’ve been alone for several lifetimes, and now the magnetic pull of _Jake_ is so strong that you’re aware of one absolutely undeniable fact.

You are absolutely hopelessly in love with Jake English.  You would die before you would leave him.

But telling him all of those things might not bode so well.  You aren’t sure how he would react, and you don’t want to risk pushing him away with your affection.

So in the end, you wind up sitting silently, gazing fondly into his eyes, and _hoping_ beyond all hope that he will just _tell you_ what his deal is.

Jake gives you a small smile, pecks your cheek, then stands up and walks away.

Damn it. 

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Fight something already!**

Bro is disheveled yet again when you arrive at Haven.  As usual, you slip into his office through the back door and find him sitting at his office chair, two very suspicious plastic mega-gulp cups on his desk.  He doesn’t even look up before gesturing to them and saying, “Dirk.  Dave.”

As much as you hate this gross habit, you’re a little thankful this evening.  It will help sate your hunger until Jake can do it later.

Bro actually looks up, quirking an eyebrow at you.  He doesn’t say anything, but you notice his lips draw down into a small frown.  Why is everyone acting so weird around you?

“So do I get to go back to the fairy forest tonight?” Dave asks.

“Can’t get a big enough dose of holy, can you lil’ man?” Bro asks.

“That’s not why I want to go back,” Dave retorts petulantly.

“Trust me, I know,” Bro responds.  “Much as I’d love to give you and John another opportunity to fuck, you’re needed somewhere else tonight.”

John’s face lights up redder than you think you’ve ever seen it, and he quickly hides in Dave’s hair.  Dave doesn’t seem affected.  He takes the assignment, then turns to you.  “We’re at—”

But before he can finish, Bro cuts him off.  “ _You_ aren’t anywhere,” he says, indicating toward all four of you. “Tonight you and John are on your own.  Dirk and Jake have something else they need to do.”

Oh great. Here it comes.  Time to get locked in Bro’s office with Jake to sort out your problems.

“You wish,” Bro responds to your thought, handing you another small post-it note with your assignment on it.  “Dirk, I’m sending you there because you’re our best.  Next to me, naturally.  Don’t fuck this up, but also don’t give up.  You’ve got this.”

You look at the note warily after that ominous pep-talk.  It’s just an address.  “Ok?  What’s the deal?”

“The deal is there’s a little girl having nightmares of a very real monster every night,” Bro elaborates, sinking back into his office chair.  “But it isn’t just any monster.  It’s the worst kind.”

Both you and Dave are somehow silent.  Bro has this way of having you both wrapped around his little finger with just the smallest of words. That’s probably because you know Bro.  The smallest of inflections, the tiniest expression, and just a hint of feeling is actually a gigantic reaction for your older brother.  Certainly, the words “worst kind” are to be feared.

“You’re right,” he again responds to your thought eerily. “Dirk, have you heard of the Midnight Crew?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

“The Midnight Crew?” John asks, tilting his head up thoughtfully.  “Aren’t they those guys that dress all in black?  I think dad mentioned them once.”

“He probably did,” Bro agrees.  “They’re the most notorious agents of Derse, so I wouldn’t be surprise if word of them reached the fairy land.”

“Aww man, Dirk gets all the fun assignments,” Dave grumbles.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what they can do.  Now finish your blood, both of you,” Bro commands.  “That harpy blood wasn’t easy to come by.  And Dave, evening church-goers are people too. They deserve our protection as much as the next person.  You know demons target them even more sometimes.  You’ll need John’s help again.”

“Aww fuck no,” Dave whines.

“Oh fuck yes,” Bro mocks him, ushering him out the door.  “You’d better go.  Mass will be over soon.”

Dave whines, takes a sip from his cup, makes a disgusted face, whines some more, and slams the door behind him.

Then Bro turns to you.  You can’t see his eyes behind his shades, but you’ve spent enough time with your older brother to recognize his expression softening.  When he looks at you, it’s with concern.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” you murmur, your accent bleeding a bit into your words.  Bro doesn’t ever look at you like this.  It’s weird.

“Tonight’s not gonna be easy,” he responds smoothly.  He removes his hat, rakes his fingers through his hair, and replaces his cap back in place before continuing.  “But you’ll do the right thing.  I know you will.”

“Freakin’ me out here a little, Bro,” you drawl back slowly.  “Did you learn to see the future too or something?”

Bro gives one light chuckle and says, “maybe a little.  But the agents of the Midnight Crew are hard to forget.  I’ve run across them before and it was less than pleasant.  Be on your guard tonight.  Even more than usual.  All night.”

You expect Bro to elaborate more after that cryptic statement, but you’re wrong.  Instead, he quickly ushers you out the door too. 

Very shortly, you find yourself driving in your Jeep, the light of the full moon pouring through your roofless and doorless vehicle, illuminating the cup of gross harpy blood that you’re disturbed to say you finished rather quickly.  The heavy beats of one of your old mixes roll through the stereo, and you tap your index finger in time to the rhythm on the steering wheel.  You can’t place why, but something seemed really odd about Bro tonight.  You know he’s a weird motherfucker, but he seemed even _stranger_ than usual.

You’d ask Jake about it but, of course, he is about as helpful as usual.  He’s even less talkative than is typical for him, though you know he gets strangely pensive sometimes.  You’ve joked with him a few times, calling him “moody,” but he’s never quite understood the humor.  Moody is definitely a word you would use to describe him right now, though.  He sits silently, staring out the side of your doorless vehicle as the trees rush by.  Every now and then he sighs lightly, dare you say wistfully?  He goes without blinking for uncomfortably long periods of time and then suddenly, as if to make up for it, he blinks quickly, tipping you off that he’s deep in thought. You would give almost anything to know what is on his mind right now.

The moonlight illuminates Jake in what you would say is a beautiful way, but let’s be honest.  Jake could be covered in donkey piss and you would find him attractive.

Especially now, when your incubus needs are so strong.  The blood Bro gave you helped quell your hunger a bit, but you still feel that instinctive want pulling at you from inside. It’s like a chasm desperate to be filled (heh, no pun intended.)  Thanks to the blood, you aren’t ravenously making out with Jake right now.  You can keep your shit together until later.  But you really can’t wait until all this Midnight Crew business is over and you can retire back home with Jake.

Eventually, you pull up to a very nondescript house.  Situated in the rural countryside, there is absolutely no indication that there would be a problem here at all.  The house is far from any of its neighbors, surrounded by waves of rolling tall grass.  The wind rustles through the grass, and the bright reflection of the moon creates silvery waves that bend in an almost hypnotic pattern.

And then you hear the scream.  It’s so high pitched, so full of fright, that it’s almost silent.  Without your demonic senses, you might not have heard it.  You’re not surprised that this girl’s parents have never woken up or noticed her screaming.

You turn to Jake.  He’s already focused on the house, his green eyes set with determination and a grimness in his features.  That’s right, Jake has faced the Agents before too.  From Jake’s expression, you can tell that Bro was not exaggerating when he said to watch yourself tonight.

“Can you sense it?” Jake asks quietly as you both jump out of your Jeep.  “It’s the sound of a terror coming through to this world.  Born of nightmares, the Agents have been using children for millennia to cross between worlds.”

You raise an eyebrow at Jake.  That was oddly perceptive of him.

Jake notices your gaze and gives you a grim smile, pulling out his prized pistols.  “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

You unsheathe your katana and sneak silently with Jake towards the house.  No lights are on.  You have no clue where the Agent could be hiding, only that he’s definitely _here_.  You can sense two adults in this house, and a small child.  And somewhere else, somewhere nearby, there’s a foul darkness that rivals even your own.  The deep depths of its emptiness pull at your soul and–

“Well if it ain’t Mr. English.  What a pleasure.”

The voice catches you off-guard.  It’s a voice that’s filled with a peculiar accent that you thought was long dead.  The accent is very inner-city gangster, and it brings to mind images of guys running around in pinstripe suits and fedoras, sucking down fat cigars while blasting everything away with semi-automatic guns.

You both turn around quickly.  You’re shocked that someone was able to sneak up on you, but that surprise only lasts a moment.  From countless strifes with Bro, you’ve learned to stay on your toes and roll with the punches.

“Spades Slick,” Jake says lowly, his voice sounding almost like a growl.  “If I never laid eyes on you again, it would certainly be a pleasure.”

The Agent, presumably Spades, cracks a grin, and it’s like the deadly slice of a knife across the pitch dark background of the night.  The Agent is dressed completely in black.  Everything from his fedora and suit down to his gloves and shiny polished black shoes.  His eyes are glowing white slits and his entire being is covered in a hazy aura of darkness.

In your time, you’ve run across demons of all persuasions, with ranges of darkness in their hearts that traverse the gambit of melancholic whimsy to truly malevolent evil.

Spades is evil.  And you mean that in the truest most unironic sense of the word.  When you feel his soul, nothing but blackness splinters out, in sharp dangerous spikes.  You know just from looking at him that this is going to be a rough battle.

“Still fightin’ da good fight?  Where’s da rest of youse crew, Mr. English?  Did ya finally kill dem all?  What’d ya call youseselves again, da f—” Spades begins to say, but is cut off by the sound of Jake’s pistol.  As usual, Jake doesn’t miss, but his target has already puffed into a cloud of black smoke by the time the bullet reaches him.

Like a phantom, Spades is already standing behind you.  He grasps you from behind, his forearm barring across your neck, choking you.  At least, if you had to breathe he would be choking you.  Quickly, you reverse your blade and jam it behind you.

But again, Spades has already moved.  This time, he’s sitting up on the first limb of a nearby tree, just out of your reach.  He shakes his head.  “Yout’ dese days.  No manners.  Mr. English, ya haven’t even introduced youse friend—oh… ohhohoho!!!  Wait don’t tell me!  Is dis guy youse _lover_?  Mr. English, I never thought I’d see da day!”

“Leave Dirk out of this!” Jake growls, firing through the air where Spades was sitting.  But as usual he has already disappeared and reappeared elsewhere.  This time he’s leaning against the hood of your Jeep. 

“Dirk, eh?  As in Dirk _Strider_?” Spades asks, looking at you with an eerie calmness that should be illegal.  “Dose two dames, Damara and Vriska, dey made quite a fuss over you not dat long ago.  Said ya broke dere hearts.”

“I remember it differently,” you say, flash-stepping forward and slicing through the air where Spades was standing.  By this point you know you probably won’t be able to catch him, but you really want him off your Jeep.

Spades materializes next to Jake, leaning against him, with an arm swung over his shoulder. “Well, I tell ya kid, it’s like dis.  By da way, ya mind if I call ya kid?  Cause ya ain’t givin’ me what I want, so I’m gonna call ya exactly what ya are.  A kid.  Ya don’t mind dat, yeah?  So anyways, kid, we can do da runaround all day.  Ya know da drill.  But it all comes down ta dis.”

Why is he touching Jake like that?  The anger within you is instantly incensed, and you know that your fuse is already short from your hunger.

You are going to kill Spades.  You are going to murder him.

Thankfully, Jake has the same idea.  He fires his pistol again through where Spades’ abdomen should have been.  But naturally Spades has moved.  “Keep your grubby hands off me!” Jake growls, a venom in his voice that you are actually a little touched but shocked to see.

It makes you feel a little torn.  You’re thrilled that Jake feels the same way you do, and you think that means that he feels this strongly about you.  No, take that back.  You don’t think, you _know_.  You can sense it on him.

But you can also sense the barely mitigated fury that is seething beneath the only slightly calm exterior of you boyfriend.  Jake is magnificent and you love him.  But in this moment, Jake is also a bit frightening.

….wait, frightening?  When have you ever thought that about Jake?  Jake is your bumbling dork of a boyfriend.  The one who loves terrible movies, is always up for videogame bro-dates, and insists on making you breakfast every morning.  Not once have you found him the least bit scary.  It’s a word that simply isn’t synonymous with Jake.  But in this moment, something is different.

You gaze at him closer and realize that it’s true.  There’s something about Jake that is petrifying.  He’s still your boyfriend. Your terrifying beautiful boyfriend.  And you would still do anything for him.  Still die for him.  But right now, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something larger going on.  A scene in a play that you’re simply blind to seeing.

Spades avoids a couple more shots from Jake before it finally seems like he’s getting bored. He materializes again by Jake’s side, plucking a spare gun out of Jake’s belt.  “Kid ya got guts ta go against da natural order of things.  I give you dat.  But dis ain’t helpin’ no one. So I tells ya what.  Ya gimme what I wants, and I won’t kill youse boyfriend.”

What?

The bullet’s in your chest before you even fully register what happened.  A millisecond later, you hear the sound of the gun being fired.

A bullet.

From Jake’s gun.

A bullet from _Jake’s gun_ is in the left side of your chest, and holy hell you have never been happier that your heart serves no purpose.  You feel it pass through your useless organ and wince as it crunches through the cartilage and muscle between your ribs, nicking the bones on the way out of your body.

The blood stain slowly spreads across your shirt. Damn, if you’d have known this was going to happen you would have worn a shirt you didn’t give a shit about instead of one of your favorite white shirts featuring an orange cap.  Alas, it’s a bit difficult to get blood out of a white shirt, and bullet wounds?  Impossible.

You feel your body healing itself, but it’s a bit on the slow side.  Thanks to Jake’s obliviousness, you’re not as sated as usual. Your body protests vehemently as it struggles to put you back together.  Healing is draining the reserves of blood that Bro gave you this evening, and it’s even taking up some of the energy you were counting on to help you make it through the night until Jake.

Yes.  Jake is definitely a time, you have decided.  And trapped in this tunnel vision, you feel yourself clawing inwardly toward that magic time when it can just be you and Jake.  No Agents.   No little brothers or older brothers—

Finally, you hear Jake’s enraged cry.  He lashes out at Spades with a bowie knife that you didn’t know he was carrying, but come on now, it’s _Jake_.  Really, you should have expected that.

Spades catches Jake’s arm and whistles long and low.  He eyes the blade in Jake’s hand like he’s eyeing a prized diamond ring.  “Wowza, youse got youseself one helluva blade dere, kid.  Where’d it come from? Dey don’t make ‘em like _dat_ anymore! Den again,” Spades draws his lips into a sinister smile, reaching for his belt.

He pulls out what might be the most wicked looking blade you have ever seen.  It’s small enough to be considered a knife, but you have never seen anything like it.  You’re not sure what it’s carved out of, but the blade itself is pure white.  It gleams in the moonlight in a way that heralds an impossible sharpness.  The handle is, naturally, the darkest of pitch, absorbing all light and giving nothing back.

“—dey don’t make ‘em like _dis_ anymore either,” Spades finishes his sentence, brandishing his knife with unbridled glee.   “I’ll ask ya again.  Ya gonna play da game _my_ way?  Ya gonna let da big guy free?”

Jake’s growl turns into a roar, and he fires his pistol again at Spades.  “Get out of my dimension, you blasted fiend!”

Spades reappears a few feet away from Jake, tisking and shaking his head, “wrong move, kid.  Wrong move.”

Spades glances only briefly in your direction, and you know he’s about to come after you.  You anticipate his move, and meet his blade with your katana when he reappears behind you.  Your body, trained from countless strifes with Bro, is already in motion, kicking Spades’ feet out from beneath him.

Before he hits the ground, you stab through his abdomen, pinning him to the ground.

Spades sputters, coughing up bright vermillion blood.  “h-how?”

“You never had an older brother, did you?” you ask calmly.  You turn briefly toward Jake, checking to make sure he’s ok.

But you’re caught offguard by Jake, whose eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen them.  “DIRK!!!!” he screams.

And then you feel it.  The sharp stab of a blade cutting through your calf down to your foot.  A second later, you hear a sickening squishing tearing sound, and then your back is on fire.

You’re on the ground before you realize what’s happened. He’s slashed through the nerves in your spinal chord, and oh fuck, you can’t move your legs. 

You’re shaking from the blood loss as you pry up your head and look up.  Spades is standing there, his knife dripping with your blood, and you know he’s made a zigzag jigsaw puzzle out of your back.  His entire left side is bleeding from where he tore your katana through his own body to escape.

“Dirk Strider,” Spades says, his voice searing with hate.  “I will _end_ da pitiful excuse dat is your life!”

You really want to tell him that isn’t true, but you have to admit, you’re feeling a little lightheaded.  You were too weak coming into this fight.  Far too weak.  And you’ve lost so much blood—

You feel a swish of air and Jake is somehow at your side, his green jacket billowing above you, his guns ready.  There’s a fury in his voice when talks that makes you instantly glad it’s not aimed at you.  “Spades Slick, you have gone _too far!_   I politely asked you to leave Dirk out of this!”

And just what the hell is “this” anyway?  What is Jake talking about?  Apparently he knows Spades from somewhere.  Maybe it’s a rivalry of sorts from the past?

Spades is clutching his side with his left hand, brandishing his knife with the other.  He seems no less deterred than before, and it has you worried.  Not for your own sake, because you could care less what happens to you, but for Jake.  What if Jake dies because you weren’t a good enough partner to have his back?

A few tense moments go by.  Then, suddenly, there is a blur of movement.  Jake is firing his pistols, and you hear the sound of Spades’ blade making contact.

When it’s all said and done, Jake is battered and defeated, but he doesn’t seem to have any terrible wounds.  He’s still standing, if barely.

Oh shit. He’s going to die isn’t he?  Spades is actually going to kill him.

Your heart wrenches. 

No! It can’t end here!  It can’t!  There has to be something you can do!  Think Dirk!

But try as you might, there isn’t time.  And even if time was no object, there isn’t anything you can do.  Your legs won’t move, and you’re too hurt to even heal yourself.  Blood is still slowly pouring from your back, slowly bleeding the life out of you.

Suddenly, you’re hit with pain so intense it feels like you’ve been placed in the center of the sun.  It’s burning hot and it’s _painfully holy_. 

Wait.  Holy?  What—

You hear a scream.  It’s not your own, and it’s not Jake’s.

It’s Spades Slick, screaming bloody murder.  You hear the sickening sounds of bones snapping and breaking.  And then he’s tossed in front of you, in a dark and bloody pile.

His eyes narrow, looking into your shades.  “I’m comin’ back for youse— _Dirk Strider._ ”

With that, Spades Slick bursts into a flurry of dust and disappears.

But how did that happen?  Jake is in terrible shape, so who—

Suddenly you’re being accosted with searing holy magic again.  You feel your wounds being forced closed, and it’s nauseating.  The world spins as you’re gently pulled up into a sitting position.  “Nnng….” You attempt to murmur in protest.

“Don’t be such a baby, Di-Stri.  C’mon, it’ll only hurt a sec.”

That voice.

Suddenly lips are on your own.  They’re soft, gentle, and extremely familiar.

Your lips are moving on their own, and you’re powerless to stop it.  You’re hurt too badly, and you _need_ this.

You know you’re pulling energy faster than you should, but you can’t help it.  The incubus inside you is _ravenous_ , and with the damage Spades did to you, it’s only worse.

You struggle to open your eyes, and when you finally do, you’re happy beyond belief.  Blonde hair, spunky smirk, and that characteristic twist in her hair.

Roxy.  It’s your Roxy.  You’re not sure how it’s possible, but she’s alive, and she’s here, and she’s absolutely not dead!

—and you can’t stop feeding off her.  Fuck, you’re taking her energy too fast!  You’ll kill her again at this rate.  You inhale sharply, trying to pull yourself out of it, but the demon inside you draws you back, hungrily devouring more of her precious life’s energy.

“Dirk?”

Oh fuck, that’s Jake.

You desperately try to push yourself away.  Using your hands, this time you manage to wrench yourself away from her.

You pushed so hard that you threw yourself back on your ass, falling into the grass.  You shift a bit, pleased to note that your legs are listening to you again.  Your body is completely healed, even though the incubus inside you is still protesting vehemently.  You feel a strong impulsive urge to grab Jake and fuck him hard, right now.  You want to hear him screaming in pleasure, feel him clinging to you as he comes, and—

Ugh.  Stop. Stop stop stop right there.  You take a breath to calm yourself and try to put that shit away.

You hear Roxy’s giggle.  “That scared of me, Di-Stri?” she asks, crawling over to you and lying beside you.

“Roxy, how are you alive?” you ask, still lying on the ground, completely bewildered.  “And did you kill Spades Slick?”

“Yup!” she agrees.

You frown, glancing at her sharply.  “You only answered one of my questions.”

“Yup!”  she perkily agrees again.

“Dirk?” Jake asks, walking over and lying beside you in the soft grass too.  Somehow, like you, he appears to be miraculously better.  You have a feeling Roxy has something to do with it.  “What is going on?  Who is your friend?”

“Her name is Roxy.  We were demon-hunting partners before she—died.  Am I dreaming?” you ask abruptly, completely baffled by the turn of events.  Not five minutes ago, you and Jake were getting gassed at the hands of one Spades Slick.  Now you, Jake, and Roxy are all lying in the grass under the moonlight, like lovers gazing at the stars.  “Or am I dead?”

“Well, technically, you already _are_ dead,” Roxy points out, then makes a sweeping motion with her outstretched hand.  “But no, you haven’t been sent into the great beyond if that’s what you mean.  How lame would that be? So lame!  That’s why I had to come here and save you!”

“So you did save us,” you murmur.  A few moments pass by in comfortable silence.  Your inner demon is finally starting to calm down, and you don’t feel like jumping Jake’s bones with Roxy right next to you anymore.  Finally, you can relax a bit.

It’s completely surreal.  Usually you’re surrounded by the lights and sounds of the city, the daily grind of fighting the demons of Derse and sending them back to their graves.  You never take time to come to the countryside, much less lay under the stars.

“How are you alive, Rox?”  you ask quietly.  “I saw you die.  How could you have possibly survived?”

“I didn’t,” she answers softly.  “But my death was deemed both _heroic_ and _just_ by the powers that be so—here I am!”

“That makes no sense,” you frown, recalling that Jane did mention something about that. She was supposed to look it up and get back to you, but you haven’t heard from her.  Whatever could it mean?

“Heroic and just—” Jake murmurs.  Then, suddenly he sits up, his eyes wide with amazement.  “Are you an angel?!” he asks, excitement glowing in his green eyes as he stares at Roxy.

“Wohooooah!  Dirkie!  You bagged a clever one!”  Roxy winks at him and says, “yes, dear, I am.  Are you the infamous Jake English?”

“The one and only!” Jake proclaims proudly.  “It is so fabulous to actually speak to an angel!”

Roxy laughs.  “Yeah, I guess.  It’s not really all it’s cracked up to be though.  They like, never let you have time off, and you’re supposed to be all pious and holy and shit.  Whatevs I say.  It’s too much work!  Which reminds me—” Roxy turns to face you, propping herself up on her elbow.  “—I don’t have a lot of time here, Dirk.”

You swallow hard.  You don’t want to face her.  You don’t know if you can.

“Di-Stri, do your ears need cleaned?  Can you hear me?” she asks playfully, knowing full well that you heard her.

“Don’t go, Roxy.  I can’t lose you again,” you murmur softly.  Roxy was your best friend, before Jake came around.  She knows everything about you.  You would trust her with anything.  A part of you died with her, and you know that losing her again will only destroy you more.

Roxy sighs, “You aren’t losing me.  You never really did.  I’ve always been around.  But, I’m sure you noticed the holy aura when I was fighting Spades, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond slowly, not liking where this is going at all.

“The holy aura never really goes away,” she admits quietly.  “I can only suppress it for a little while, like now, to make it more comfortable for you.  But if you think about it, you can probably totes feel it.”

She’s right.  Now that you’re looking for it, the holy aura is buzzing about the air, like a cloud of mosquitos pestering and stinging you.  It’s not bad enough to be painful, just annoying.

“Dirk, my assignments now are to _kill_ those like you.  Any demons.  All demons,” Roxy explains, her voice almost inaudible.  “I think— if the higher ups knew I was even talking to you, I’d be in a buttload of trouble.  Sorry, you know it’s nothing personal.”

“Kill all demons?” you echo in disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s actually been going on forever,” Roxy comments.  “You just never noticed because Bro has some sweet deal worked out for those of you at Haven.  That’s a cute name, B.T.Dubs.  Tell him I said that.”

“I will,” you murmur offhandedly.  Then, a thought comes to mind.  A thought so disturbing that you have to voice it.  “Roxy, you aren’t killing the good demons too, are you? The innocent ones that we worked to protect?”

“No!  Fuck no!” she exclaims quickly.  Then, her expression falls again.  “But some of the other angels are.  I mean, I’ve convinced a few to stop, but it’s like, fighting a never ending war and some of them won’t ever change their minds.  It totes blows!”

“There must be some reason,” you mutter.

“Yeah, I guess there was an incident a long time ago?  That’s when this whole ‘kill all the demons’ crusade started.  There’s just one guy they’re after.  Or maybe it’s a chick, I’m not sure.  Nobody really knows.  But whoever she is, she’s gotta be one hella powerful demon!” Roxy exclaims.

“So you’ve decided it’s a she?” you murmur back playfully.

“Course!  Haven’t you heard?” Roxy laughs then starts singing slightly off key, “ _the female of the species is more deadly than the male!_ ~  Makes sense, cause _God is a Girl!_ ~” 

You find yourself smiling.  Roxy could always get you to smile.  A manly Strider smile, of course.

Jake finally pipes up.  “This person they’re looking for.  Will they stop killing all the demons if they finally kill her?”

You feel Roxy shift beside you, as if she’s shrugging.  “Who can say? Some of them are so set in their ways that nothing is gonna change them.  But I think it might make ‘em lay off a bit.”

“I see,” Jake murmurs, then returns to staring up at the stars thoughtfully.

You don’t know how long you three lay in the peaceful silence.  In the comfortable presence of your best friend and your boyfriend, you close your eyes and feel the world around you.  You can sense the people in the house, sleeping peacefully.  The young girl’s nightmares have finally ended.

And of course, you can feel Roxy and Jake beside you.  Jake is oddly—tense?  You aren’t really sure why, but you’ll get it out of him later.  Roxy’s mind is a pleasant calm.  You’ve missed her.  You’ve missed her terribly.

All too soon, you hear Roxy sigh beside you.  “It’s time for me to go, Dirk,” she says quietly.

“I know,” you murmur back.  “You’ll come visit, yeah?  Jake can’t match me in Halo like you  can.”

“Give me a real gun and I’ll match you any day!” Jake protests.

Roxy laughs.  “Sure, I’ll make time for you, Dirkey!”

“And—you’ll see Jane too, won’t you?” you ask tentatively.  “She misses you, you know.”

For a while, Roxy doesn’t say anything.  Then she murmurs, “yeah, I know.  I miss her too.” Roxy doesn’t say any more about it.  Instead, she leans in to you, giving you a small peck on the cheek. 

“Bye Roxy,” you hear yourself whisper.

“Goodbye.  Love you, Dirk.”

You feel your heart wrench, and the tingle of holy energy intensifies beside you.  For a beautiful shining moment, the night sky is lit with a bright pure white glow.  Then it’s gone.  The holy energy is gone.  You don’t need to look to know the truth.

Roxy is gone.

In her place, there’s an emptiness in your soul. The pain of her death has cut into you again, and it threatens to overtake you.  But you remind yourself of one important fact. 

She’s alive. Your Roxy is alive.

Somehow that makes things a little better.  You know that you may never see her again, but even if you don’t, you know that she’s around.  The thought comforts you and creeps you out a little at the same time.

You roll over, snuggling into Jake, who is happy to snuggle back.  He turns to you, touching your foreheads together lightly.  Beneath the light of the full moon, you can see the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the brilliant green hue of his eyes, and his soft sad smile.  “She was really important to you, wasn’t she?”  he asks.

“Yeah.  She was my partner for decades,” you agree.  “You know that night we first met?  The night I was such an asshole to you?”

Jake chuckles, “you were quite the wanker!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you murmur, grinning at your own stupid ways.  “She just died the day before.”

“I know,” he says back softly.

“You know?”

“Yeah, Bro told me,” Jake responds quietly.  “We spoke a bit before you arrived that evening.  He’s—he’s quite the fellow.”

“Heh,” you laugh once, softly.  “That’s putting it mildly.”

For a little while longer, you take in the comforting warmth of Jake’s body, bathing in the moonlight.  You may be starving, but you don’t want this moment to end.  Your body wants to have sex with him, but your heart is content to just lay here and bask in the pleasant feeling that is your boyfriend.

But it doesn’t last.

As you continue to taste Jake’s energy, feeling him, sensing him, you can sense a growing unrest within him.  Staying out here is making him antsy.  It’s putting him back on edge, and he isn’t telling you why.  Though you’re not sure why, you don’t want to cause him any more discomfort.  So finally, you murmur, “hey, Jake?  Let’s head home.”

You sense his relief immediately.  He quietly nods.  When you lean in to kiss him gently but chastely, he kisses you back sweetly in a quiet gesture of thanks.

You drive away and don’t look back.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Get your JAKE on!** 

You’ve got to get home first, all right?  Geez.  Calm down.

As you drive home, Bro’s words drift back to you. 

_Be on your guard tonight.  Even more than usual.  All night._

Could he have known what was coming?  Have his abilities really grown strong enough to see into the future?  You don’t see how it’s possible, but every time you think you know everything about your older brother, he manages to surprise you.

Of course, his female consort may have played a role in his behavior.  His mysterious mistress is terrifying in more ways than one, so you wouldn’t be surprised if she had something to do with it.  Whatever “it” is.

Jake is as silent as he was before, when you were driving here.  You know that something is going through his brain, but again, he isn’t telling you what it is.  It’s frustrating, because you wish that you could be someone he trusts as much as you trust Roxy.  You want Jake to be able to tell you anything and everything.

You love him.  You’ve got his back, no matter what happens.  You can’t wait until the day when he fully realizes and believes that.

It takes a great deal of concentration and willpower for you to make it back home without stopping alongside the road for a quick snack/mack on Jake.  Roxy gave you some of her energy, but you stopped yourself before you could even begin to truly feed. 

You are still starving.  Small tremors wrack through body, and your hands are shaking from the raw hunger and need. 

You want Jake.  You need him.

By the time you’re back in your apartment, it’s almost unbearable.  “Jake,” you murmur, and your voice sounds strained and forced.  “Are you ready to—?”

Again, Jake hesitates.  For half a second, you panic, thinking you’ll have to run out quickly and find a stranger to bed or die.  But you’re filled with relief when he nods and says, “yes, let’s move to the bedroom, shall we?  Dare I say it will be awkward for Dave if we leave your pants here?”

Oh.  You hadn’t realized you were already unbuttoning your pants.  But you were.  Quickly, you both make your way to the bedroom, and Jake shuts and locks the door behind you.  The only light in the room is from the moonlight, streaming in through his open window.  A gentle breeze ruffles his hair as he begins to tediously undress himself.

You had already managed to shed all your clothing before he even closed the door.  Hastily, you begin helping Jake with his clothes, unbuttoning and unzipping his shorts and pulling them down to the floor.

Jake chuckles, “impatient are we?”

“You could say that,” you murmur.  He still has his socks and shoes on, and his shorts and boxers are still hanging loosely around his legs, but you don’t care.  You can’t wait any longer.  Grabbing him roughly by the hips, you push him into the bed.  Your swallow his dick ravenously while Jake still struggles to remove his shirt.

“D-Dirk!  Aahh!” He gasps, clearly not expecting you to jump him so quickly.  But you can feel the gentle lick of pleasure rolling off him, and you take that as a sign to continue.  It doesn’t take him long to harden in your mouth, and you eagerly take him down your throat.  Every little moan is blissful, and the burning warmth of his essence is rapture.

Jake actually surprises you when he pushes you off of him.  For a second, you’re worried that you might have hurt him somehow.  You don’t _think_ you were pulling his energy too quickly?

But then you see his heavy laden eyes, full of raw _want_ , and you know that he’s stopped you for an entirely different reason.

“Strider, you’re beautiful. Perfect. I want to _fuck_ you,” he says, not hesitating a moment between those lust laden statements.

You grin back at him.  You’re not about to stop him.  “Ok.  Remember how this works, English?”

“I have an idea,” he says, grinning at you in a way that you’d swear looks downright _predatory_.  “Perhaps we can try something new?”

You rarely think this, but you’re actually a little _worried_ about what’s going through Jake’s head.  Didn’t he say you were his first boyfriend?  Just what is this new idea?

You guess he’s probably watched porn online or possibly even in person before.  Who’s to say what he’s done.

 **timaeusTestified [TT]** **began pestering timaeusTestified [TT]  at 9:35** 

**TT: Dirk.  Hey.  Listen to me.  I know I’m just a program, but I’m getting a bad feeling about this.  I think you should—**  

The way Jake grabs you by the hips, pulling you toward him, is nothing short of jarring.  You catch the gasp in your throat, not about to give away your surprise.  As he yanks you suddenly on top of him, your shades go flying off your face.  Whatever AR was about to tell you will have to wait.

Jake’s hard beneath you, and you can feel him more than suggestively grinding up into your ass.  Again, you fight to keep a moan from leaving your throat.  Eagerly, you push back into him, hungrily absorbing every lick of pleasured energy that comes from him.

You’re so focused on not hurting him that you don’t really pay attention to the energy coming off him.  It’s super-charged with sex and want, and that’s all you care about.  It wraps around you like a warm blanket, and you pull at it, letting it slowly fill the gap left from days of not feeding.

Jake’s curling an arm around you, and in your haze your almost don’t register when he shifts your position, drawing you both fully onto the bed.  You don’t mind, because it gives you more room to work.  You’re lost in Jake and he’s pulling you again quite forcefully down to him, capturing your lips.  He’s licking and biting now and holy _fuck_ is it hot.  You loved the way Jake kissed you earlier, but now—

Suddenly, a less than pleasant pain arcs up through your back.  Your ass is on fire.  You think it’s literally on fire.

But quickly, you come to your senses and realize that no, your ass is not on fire, but one Jake English has just forced himself up into you.  You gape at him in surprise, feeling his dick slide slowly into you.  You’re not even sure how he forced himself up there, but you can tell that you’re bleeding.  You swallow and force yourself to calm down as he slides up further inside you. 

You’re an incubus.  You can handle this.  Your ass is quite accommodating, even if you haven’t been prepared.  Besides, this isn’t the first time you’ve used your own blood as lube.  Some of your other demonic lovers were quite fond of that.  You’re not exactly against it, but you just didn’t expect it out of Jake.  He always struck you as the type that would always be blushing, stammering, tripping over his own words and his own dick during sex.  You pegged him for the adorable and bashful type. 

Not—this.

Jake’s bitten firmly into your lower lip, and he’s got his arm firmly locked around your neck, keeping you in place as he pulls himself in and out of you.  You push back into him, ignoring the pain.  You’ll bear with it for Jake, and his energy which—

—which suddenly doesn’t taste like Jake anymore.  Your brows furrow as you realize what you’d overlooked earlier.

Damara.  Kurloz.  Meulin.  What the fuck, Meulin now too?

Their influence is back, thickly lacing Jake’s energy and sticking to him like a disgusting syrup.  But unlike last time, it doesn’t disappear after a moment.  The foul darkness of their influence lingers as he fucks you, and as much as you want to do something about it, you’re still _starving_ and you can’t.  You’ve got to let him keep going.  Your body won’t let you stop.

Jake is giving off a hyper-charged amount of energy.  You’ve only had sex with him twice before, but neither of those times were quite like this.  Even though it’s tainted, the pleasured vitality you pull from him is healing and filling you faster than you think any of your lovers have been able to in the past.  Even the ones you’ve almost accidentally killed from feeding too quickly.

Jake, however, seems to have no problems.  You undulate your hips, bringing your ass down to meet him sharply as he continues to thrust forcefully up into you.  You ride it out for a few more minutes, and it actually does become more pleasurable when your body heals itself.  Thank whatever created you for that.  It’s saved you a good deal of pain with your less than gentle lovers.

Like Jake.

You growl into Jake’s kiss, partially from the feral pleasure of having sex with him, but mostly from your own frustration at yourself for not being able to stop and see what the fuck is wrong with him.  You’re still a long way from being full, but you’re sated enough to finally have some control over yourself.  You’re finally able to tear your lips away from his.

And you gasp.  You actually fucking gasp.

Jake’s eyes are the wrong color. 

They’re red.

You still on top of him, forcing him to stop moving.  When he leans up in protest, you push him back down on the bed.  You don’t know what his red eyes mean, but if it’s anything like you or your bros, you know it’s a bad sign.  “Jake.  Snap out of it.  Whatever’s fucking happening, snap the _fuck_ out of it!”

Jake doesn’t say anything, but he _glares_ at you, breathing heavily as he focuses on your eyes.  Behind the brilliant red irises there’s a burning hunger and a pure black hatred.

For the second time today, Jake frightens you.

You have no doubts now.  Something is most definitely wrong with him.  “Jake—” your voice is more of a plead now.  You don’t want to have to dip into his consciousness again.  You told him you wouldn’t.

But something about him is very _very_ wrong.  You wonder if this is what AR was trying to warn you about earlier, before he was rudely flung from your face.

It isn’t like you to sit at a loss for several minutes, but that’s exactly what you do.  While Jake squirms and fights against you, you pin him down, debating what to do.  Not even a week ago, you promised him that you wouldn’t manipulate him again.  You’re not sure what happened to him or why he’s like this.   You really hope it isn’t anything you did.

Could this happen any time you have sex?

No, you’re not going down that line of thought.  Not now.  You’ll deal with that when it comes time.  For now, you’ve got bigger matters to attend to.

Jake isn’t any better.  He’s still fighting you, his eyes are still red, and he’s still trying to hump you like a crazy motherfucker.  You know what you have to do.

You sigh heavily.  Slowly, regretfully, you drag your gaze to his, locking eyes with him.

**_Mine.  Jake, you’re mine._ **

Like flipping a switch, his eyes quickly revert back to their beautiful green color. Instantly, he slumps back into the bed, the fight in him completely gone.

Worst boyfriend.  That’s you.

Slowly, you shift off him, freeing his dick from yourself.  He hasn’t even come yet, and neither have you.  With Jake under your influence, you could do whatever you wanted to him, and he would be powerless to stop it.  Just the opposite, in fact. 

You could make him love anything you did to him.

Make him want it.

Make him _beg you_ for it.

You’ve done it to lovers in the past, but you could never do it to Jake.  You can’t even fathom treating the one you love that way.  You aren’t starving anymore. You’ll last another couple days now, and once Jake is himself again, you’ll gladly make up for this with all the sex he could ever want. 

If he’s ever himself again.

You cringe at the thought, noting that your boyfriend’s eyes are hazy with your influence, half lidded.  Gently you caress his cheek, trailing your fingers across his forehead and through his hair.  Naturally, all the other influences have left him now. No more Damara, Kurloz, or Meulin. 

Jake’s under _your_ influence now.  And you’re scared about what will happen if you give him back to himself right now.

So instead, you settle into the crook between Jake and the wall, pulling the covers over you both.  Gently, you kiss his cheek and murmur, “sleep.”

He’s out as soon as you finish the word, lulled by your undeniable suggestion.  His eyelids flutter shut, his breathing evening out into long, deep breaths.  You vaguely remember that your shades and AR went flying across the room somewhere, but you’ll get them in the morning.

For now, you pull Jake close to you and fall into an uneasy sleep.


	12. Striders Stick Together

 

**Dirk == > Wake up** 

Over the past few months, you’ve become accustomed to waking up to a few things.  The first is waking up alone in bed, and the second is the smell of Jake’s cooking.

Neither of those is true today.

The scent in the air is that of burning.  (Dave must have tried to cook something again.)  And Jake is most certainly still sleeping peacefully beside you.  Gently, you caress the feather light wisps of his hair. As your fingers trail down to his cheek, you wonder why he’s so sleepy today.

And then you remember.

It hits you like a punch to the gut.  Jake’s still under your influence, isn’t he?

You frown, pulling yourself out of the bed.  Thankfully, you didn’t take your pants off until you reached Jake’s room, and you slip into your jeans while you think of what to do. 

You really don’t know what the fuck to do.  Do you release Jake from your influence now?  What if he flips out at you again?  And just what _was_ that last night?  You’ve heard of people not being themselves when they’re under another’s influence, but that was something else.

You do the only thing you can do.  Reluctantly, you walk across the room and pick up your shades.

**TimaeusTestified [TT]** **began pestering TimaeusTestified [TT] at 4:35**

“ _Hey.  AR.  What the fuck do I do?”_ you think to your computer counterpart.

**TT: Oh, I don’t know, you could just discard me like some piece of trash.  Like last night.**

“ _Sorry about that.  Jake wasn’t himself._ ”

**TT:  You think?  I was literally spelling it out for you.**

“ _I figured that out.  Look, normally I wouldn’t ask you for a damned thing, and you know it.  But I actually need your help right now._ ”

**TT:  Take Jake off your influence.**

You furrow your eyebrows together and think back, “ _What if he flips out again?_ ”

**TT:  So what?  Put him back under your influence.**

You might not always agree with AR, but he does have a point.  It couldn’t hurt to try.

So you go to Jake, lightly shaking him to alertness.  “Hey, wake up.”

He slowly, sleepily, opens his eyes.  They’re green, but you wince, seeing them still clouded over from your influence. Time to fix that.

You slip down your shades enough to lock gazes with him.  Like ripping off a band-aid, you pull your suggestion from him.

**_Yours.  Be you, Jake._ **

Sleepily, he blinks. His eyes rake over you, and he hesitantly murmurs, “Dirk?”

You breathe a sigh of relief.  He’s Jake again. Your Jake.

“Hey, how’re ya feelin’?” You ask cautiously, a southern tenderness in your voice that would make you feel embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking worried about him.

“I feel a bit—drowsy,” Jake murmurs back, bringing a hand to his head.  Slowly, he shakes his head back and forth, as if he’s shaking off a bad dream.  “Strider, what happened last night?  I recall meeting your friend Roxy, and we came back here.  But after that—”

When Jake’s voice trails off, you debate what to tell him.  Of course, nobody would know what’s going on with him better than he would, but do you really want to tell him everything that he did?  Everything that _you_ did?

You wince, remembering that relationships are a two way street.  Yes, it’s your responsibility to tell him, as much as you hate to.  So you open your mouth and reluctantly let the words spill out.  “Jake, you weren’t yourself last night.  I had to put you under my influence again.  I’m sorry.”

Jake frowns then worries his lower lip for a few moments.  Eventually, he says, “I wasn’t myself?”

“We started having sex and you got—aggressive?” you murmur. 

“Aggressive?” he asks, his brows furrowed in an adorable way that is absolutely _your Jake_ and definitely not whatever he was last night.

“You put your dick in me without any preparation or lube?  I mean, I’m an incubus and I can take it.  But that’s usually considered pretty aggressive?”  You find yourself averting your gaze from his.  Jake has somehow managed to make you uncomfortable with one of your most familiar topics: sex.  You sigh with frustration and move along.  “Look, anyway, I don’t know if that’s normal for you, but your eyes also changed color.  They were red.  Pretty sure that’s not normal.”

When you gaze back at Jake to gauge him, you’re a little surprised with what you find.  Jake looks scared. 

“Oh, oh God,” he murmurs.  You can’t imagine what is going through his mind right now.  He’s a shaking, perspiring, quivering mess.  But tenderly, he reaches out for you, pulling you into a gentle warm embrace.  “I’m so sorry, Dirk.  I didn’t—hurt you, did I?”

“What? No, I’m fine,” you reassure him, gently working your arms around him and hugging him back.  As you thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, your fingers brushing his skin, you taste his energy a bit.  You’re relieved when you sense that he’s completely himself, but you frown when you feel what a nervous mess he is right now.  Jake is feeling guilty, sad, and upset.

_Jake is worried that he might lose you._

The thought hits your head with the utmost clarity.  You would wonder how you know that for certain if you weren’t so distraught yourself that Jake is feeling this way.  “Jake I’m not goin’ anywhere.  Calm your shit down, bro,” you murmur into his hair, hugging him tightly to yourself. 

“I’m so sorry—so so so sorry—” Jake murmurs, his voice a broken record.

You aren’t really sure what to do.  You’ve never really been in such a serious relationship before, and you’ve never had one of your lovers break down on you like this.  Usually, with your record, you get in, fuck, and get out before any of the emotional stuff can hit.  It makes you sound like a heartless bastard, but you kind of are, which is why you’re completely at a loss right now.

So you do the only thing you can do.  You keep holding him, gently reassuring him that you aren’t going anywhere.  That he’s ok.  That you’re ok.  Neither of you were hurt.  You’re both ok.

You hold him for at least half an hour.

Slowly, you feel him ease down from whatever panicked state he was in, until Jake is softly sighing, entwining his fingers in the tendrils of your messy morning hair just for the hell of it.  When you sense that he is calm enough, you pull away, looking at his face.  You aren’t surprised to see streaks left over from tears.

Holy shit.  You made Jake cry.  A twinge of remorse hits you in the gut.

Worst boyfriend. That continues to be you.

It isn’t until you both sit up that you even realize Jake is still naked.  He looks a little flustered, stammers a small apology, and then hurries to throw some clothing on.

You’d be lying if you said that seeing Jake’s naked body doesn’t slightly turn you on.  You’re still a bit peckish, but you aren’t about to suggest doing anything right now.  Instead, you distract yourself by finding and pulling on your own shirt.  You get the feeling it was somehow your fault that this happened anyway.  That Jake probably tried to warn you again yesterday and that you didn’t listen to him.

**TimaeusTestified [TT] ** **began pestering TimaeusTestified [TT]  at 5:15**

**TT:  Maybe that’s because he DID warn you and you DIDN’T listen.  Again.**

You take off your shades and fold them, clipping an arm through the nape of your shirt.  You were thankful for his advice earlier, but AR’s bullshit is absolutely not what you need right now.

When you’re both dressed, he pauses with a hand on the doorknob.  “Ready to go out and face the world?” he asks, a bright smile on his face.  Oh, how you’ve missed that smile.

You give him a small grin and nod back.

Unfortunately, facing the world actually translates to dealing with Dave and John, who have somehow managed to destroy your kitchen.  They sit at the kitchen table silently watching as you walk into the kitchen, then walk out carrying a pan caked with black goo.  “Which one of you am I blaming for this?”

Immediately, Dave and John point to each other.

Before they can even say anything, you set the pan on the table.  “Doesn’t matter, you’re both either cleaning this one or buying Jake a new one.”

“Jake?” Dave asks, quirking an eyebrow.  “Thought those were _your_ pans, bro.”

“We all know who does the cooking around here, chap!” Jake responds, poking his head out of the kitchen and smiling brightly. Then he waves an unmarred pan around happily.  “Look, I found one they didn’t ruin!”

You give Dave and John a _look_.  John yelps and flies backward into Dave’s chest, and even your lil’ bro looks a little nervous.  Oh that’s right.  No shades.  They can see exactly what look you’re giving them right now.

Good.  You don’t bother leaning forward or doing anything else that could be seen as slightly intimidating.  All you say is, “you’re lucky.”

Though really, you think that you’re all lucky to have Jake around.  His breakfasts continue to be amazing.  This morning he prepares you all French toast, topped with peaches and an apple glace that looks extremely Jane-inspired.  It seems like he’s trying extra hard with his breakfast this morning, measuring the ingredients out with precision rather than just eyeballing it and dumping whatever he feels like together.

When he sets the plates of French toast on the table, you distinctly hear it.

_Jake’s sorry.  He feels terrible about last night, and he wants to make up for it._

You furrow your brows, glancing up at him.  “No need to be sorry, English.  Keep making breakfasts like these, and we’re completely golden,” you respond, doing your best to make him feel more at ease.

However your response seems to have exactly the opposite effect.  Jake looks shocked.  “Strider I never said—”

But before Jake can finish, John does a fucking face plant into the giant stack of French toast placed in front of him, which is easily 10 times his size.  “Yeah!!!” He whoops with joy, getting covered in the syrupy mess of apples and peaches.

“Gross dude,” Dave says between bites of his French toast.  Without missing a beat, he glances up at you, “so, fairy forest today?”

You roll your eyes at him.  “Maybe later this week.”

Dave sighs heavily.  John makes a small embarrassed noise and hides his flushed face in a pile of peaches.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > What the fuck is Bro doing?** 

Yeah, what the fuck is he doing?

You hear his voice as you walk down the hallway to his office.  When you enter the room, he glances up at you, then glances at his computer screen.  He quickly says, “Yep, thought so.   Gotta go.”

He snaps his laptop shut in an extremely suspicious way.  Even though you’ve decided to put your shades back on, so you know he can’t see your eyes, you still eye him in question.  “Bro, what were you—”

“You’ll see later,” he responds, abruptly cutting you off.  Then, he glances at you up and down.  “You’re both in one piece. Good.  You had a visitor last night?”

“Yeah,” you murmur back.  But strangely, you don’t feel the choked feeling you usually do when you think about Roxy.  Somehow, knowing that she’s doing just fine out there all on her own gives you solace.  Now that you think about it, it’s exactly as she would have wanted things. 

Roxy always fought for those revolutionary ideals.  Being an angel puts her in a position to impact some of the most influential beings in the world.  It gives her a chance to fight from the other side.

And you suddenly realize, Roxy is exactly where she was always meant to be.

Bro smiles at you and ruffles your hair.  He snickers and jumps back when you scowl and slash your katana at him for daring to mess with your perfectly styled locks.  “Glad to see you figured it out,” he murmurs back. 

For a moment, he simply looks at you fondly.  Like he’s extremely proud of you.  Suddenly, you’re getting flashbacks to John’s dad.

“Oh no, don’t you dare lump me in with _him,_ ” he says, waggling a finger at you.  Then, without another word, he shoves your assignment paper in your face and ushers you back out the door.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Chill with Jake** 

Fuck yes. You will do all the chilling with Jake.

Your targets were painfully easy, and you’re sitting on your futon playing Call of Duty before you know it.  Jake is actually a little bit better at this game than Halo.

He still doesn’t match your skill though.

After dying for the twenty third time, Jake finally tosses the controller aside and announces, “I’ve finished with this one, Strider!”

You snort back, “Oh? I couldn’t tell.”

“Oh sod off,” he chuckles back, leaning in closer to you.  “You know, Dirk, I was wondering. Did you—last night—that is to say, do you need—?”

“Good for another day or two,” you respond to his horribly worded question smoothly, placing your own controller down on the table.  Slowly, you turn towards him, slipping off your shades so that he can see your eyes and the true feeling behind your words.  “Jake, I know you’re blaming yourself for last night, but don’t.  It was my fault things happened like they did.  You tried to warn me, and I didn’t listen to you.  I’m sorry.”

“Dirk,” he murmurs, his voice trailing off as he quietly chews his bottom lip.  He’s on the verge of telling you something.  Something big.  You just know it.

_He can’t tell you yet.  He can’t lose you._

Somehow you _know_ that’s what is going through his mind.  Again.  Just like earlier this morning. 

You sigh, “Jake, hey. You know I’d never leave you, right?”

Jake blinks at you from behind his glasses, a look of shock similar to the one he wore this morning on his face. “Dirk, how do you keep doing that?” He asks.

“Doing what?” you ask.

“You keep—” Jake begins.

And with perfect timing as usual, Dave busts loudly through the door, going on about how he needs some applejuice after today. 

Whatever.  Like everything, you know Jake will tell you later.

He doesn’t.

In fact, weeks pass by without him ever bringing anything like that up again.  Fortunately, he never doubts that you’ll stay with him.  And after waiting just one more day, he is more than eager to pull you back into bed for your favorite reasons.

The following days are simply _divine_.  In the least holy sense of the word.  You haven’t loved this much, or fed this much, in decades.  You’d forgotten what an impact it has on you.

For so long, you’d skated by on the bare minimum, just feeding when you needed it to survive.  You had long come to grips with your nature, but it didn’t mean you had to like it.  But once Jake decided to show you his affections every day, sometimes more than once a day, you started to notice the difference.

You’re stronger.  You’re faster.  If Bro tried to strife you now, you think you might actually win.  Ok, probably not.  Bro is one tough motherfucker.  But you would definitely give him a run for his money.

And best of all, Jake doesn’t seem to be affected at all.  If you do it right, and by now you’d hope that you do, your lovers never feel the draining, listless feeling when an incubus feeds from them.  Quite the opposite, if you do it right, your lovers are extra charged after you make love to them.

You didn’t think it was possible, but Jake is even _more_ energetic than before.  Which means, he’s twice as reckless as before, and five times more likely to jump head-on into danger.

In short, Jake is becoming an increasingly difficult partner to work with.  He seems to have lost what few inhibitions he had.  PDAs are now nearly synonymous with Jake, which you appreciate but find highly distracting.  It’s especially bad when he shows you affection and then doesn’t hesitate to charge blindly into danger.

Thankfully, none of your foes have been very challenging yet.  You _think_ that Bro’s given the more difficult adversaries to Dave, and you’re silently grateful for that.  Quite a few nights, Dave has come back fuming and ranting.  Your stores of applejuice have diminished significantly.

The weeks waltz from one to the next, and you’re happily high on _Jake_ the whole time.  You love him.  You love him you love him you love him, and if he has some horrible secret to hell with it.  You don’t care. 

You’ll always love Jake, and nothing will ever come in between you two.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Go to work** 

Three months go by.  Three of the happiest months of your life.  Your targets are simple, Haven is thriving, and your relationship with Jake brings an unabashed smile to your face every time you think of it.

Jake has only hesitated to show you love on a couple rare occasions, both times on the night of the full moon.  It’s too much of a coincidence to not notice now, and your mind is going crazy wondering.  So you just do it, you ask him.

“Jake, are you a werewolf?” you ask, the first night of the full moon after he shows a bit of hesitation removing his shirt.

Jake laughs, and flexes back. His taut muscles ripple desirably, accented by the moonlight as he pulls off his shirt and tosses it aside.  You drink in the sight of your fucking gorgeous boyfriend.

Oh fuck, that’s not even fair.  You want him, and you really hope he isn’t about to tell you that you can’t have him. 

“A werewolf?  Goodness, no,” he says.  You’re about to sigh with relief when he continues, “I wish it were that simple.”

“Jake—” you murmur.  “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He catches your drift, rather quickly this time.  “A-another time, all right, old bean?”

Reverting to calling you silly things like “old bean” and “my good fellow.”  Things Jake does only when he’s really nervous about something now.  You slowly sigh and nod.  You aren’t going to push him.  Jake shouldn’t ever feel threatened by you.  “Sure, whenever you’re ready.  And if you don’t want sex, we don’t have to.  I mean, you’ve given me plenty to get by for another couple weeks.”

“I—appreciate that offer,” Jake murmurs, walking up to you and pulling you into his arms.  He rests his head on your shoulder with a soft sigh and kisses your cheek.  You feel the warmth of his love blooming inside you, the gentle licks of his passion radiating from his kiss through your whole body.  Fuck do you love this man.  “In truth, these nights are a little—difficult for me.  Perhaps we could engage in some spectacular cuddling instead?”

You won’t lie, you’re disappointed.  But at the same time, the thought of just being next to Jake, drinking in his warmth and love, gives you more happiness than sex ever could.  So you murmur back into his hair, “I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you.”

And you do.  Every night of the full moon you do.  You’ve tried extra hard to be conscious of Jake’s feelings, and you are pleased to say you’ve gotten better at picking up his uncertainties.  At recognizing when something makes him uncomfortable.

It’s not that hard, really, since Jake is always so enthusiastic about anything and everything.  If he ever hesitates with anything, you know it makes him uncomfortable.  AR teases you about that every now and then, chiding you on how long it took you to figure that out.  But hey, you aren’t going to discredit yourself.  You were Jake-blinded.

And you suppose you still are.  Jake Jake Jake.  He’s your entire world now, and you are loving every minute of it.

Yes you’ve been caught grinning like an idiot on more than one occasion.  Dave gives you shit for it, but he stops when you threaten not to let him go back to the fairy forest.  You’ve actually let him borrow your rocketboard quite a few times now.  It didn’t take long to teach him how to use it, and soon he was more than capable of flying himself and John back to the forest without your help. He’s made the trip a decent number of times now.  Each time, you both conveniently decide you won’t bother mentioning it to Bro.  Not that he can’t pick it out of your minds anyway.  But Bro doesn’t seem to care.

Tonight is one of these nights.  You’ve just waved Dave and John off before their trip to fairyland, and you’re swinging into Haven with some of your favorite sick beats pumping through your stereo.  Jake is attached to your hip as usual, and even though you had sex earlier today, the look he is giving you makes you heavily anticipate getting back home from work tonight.

When you get to Haven, Bro pulls you into his office.  Alone.

Whatever, he’s weird.  You’ll explain to Jake later.

“No, you won’t explain to him later,” Bro says, plucking the thoughts rudely out of your head.

You wait for him to elaborate on that, but he doesn’t.  Bro is being oddly silent, pensive almost.  On the surface, anyone else would think that he is calm, cool, and collected as usual.  But you know the truth. You know Bro better than anyone, you think. 

Bro is nervous and scared.  What the fuck could be making your ultimate badass brother nervous and scared?

“Heh, you do know me better than anyone,” Bro chuckles, but it’s a hollow laugh.  “And you know, it takes a lot of Strider cool to be the ultimate badass.  You sure you’re man enough for that?”

“You know I’m game.  What’s the deal?” you ask.

“The deal is that it’s April the 5th,” he says, as if that makes perfect sense to everyone.  “And your assignment today is the Old Plaza Mall.”

**TimaeusTestified [TT]** **began pestering TimaeusTestified [TT] at 7:45**

**TT: Dirk.**

“Ok?”  You say, not really understanding what the big deal is.  April the 5th has never been an important day. And it’s not the first time Bro’s sent you to the old plaza mall.

**TT:  DIRK!  Hey listen to me for one fucking second!  Something’s wrong with Bro.**

You pause.  Something does seem to be really off about him.

**TT: I’m telling you be careful he’s—**

Bro walks up to you, and for a second, you think he’s looking into your eyes.  But his words surprise you.  “Hey AR,” he says, clearly not talking to you.  “Run file Broistheultimatebadass.exe”

**TT:  What the fuck? How does he know my name? How is he—**

Suddenly, the chat box disappears from your view.

AR is gone.

“Bro, what’d you do to AR?” you ask, frowning, suddenly suspicious.

“Nothing much,” Bro reassures you.  “I just wanted him to shut up for one fucking second.  He’ll be back before you know it.”

That sounds about right.  AR is nothing if not tenacious.  Bro might be a programming genius, but there’s no way he could have known _every single place_ AR probably backed up his program.  Still, you wonder why Bro decided to shut AR up today and never any other day.

Bro doesn’t answer your unspoken question.  Instead, he asks, “Dave’s staying with John in the fairy forest today, yeah?”

“Yeah.  He just left,” you answer slowly.  But he left in secrecy, and you know you haven’t thought about Dave since entering Haven.  Bro couldn’t have possibly picked it out of your head.  “How do you know—”

Bro reminds you, “info is what I do, remember?”

Before you can do anything, he leans in and captures you in a tight embrace.

And he pumps you full of more _love_ and _energy_ than you think he ever has. 

His energy is warm, it’s soft, and it’s full of the tenderest brotherly love possible.  Bro’s showing you his gentle side, another unusual occurrence.  You’re certain you must be glowing with the radiance of his energy.  “Dude, you’re freakin’ the shit out of me.  You’re never like this. What’s going on, Bro?” You ask hesitantly.

“Striders look out for each other.  Striders stick together.  Remember that,” Bro tells you, repeating the mantra he’s inducted into you for as long as you can remember.

“Yeah, I don’t think I could forget that if I tried,” you respond uneasily.  “Seriously, Bro, is something going down today I don’t know about?”

When he pulls away from you, Bro is back to his usual stoic self.  But you felt the emotion packed behind the energy he handed off to you.  You felt his love, his care, his fear.  “You’re going to the Old Plaza Mall today to take care of some zombies that have been congregating there.  Dust them, and come straight back here.  Don’t get distracted.  No detours.”

The assignment sounds simple enough.  So what the fuck is Bro’s problem?  You get the feeling that even if you tried asking again he wouldn’t tell you.

So, you don’t bother.  Instead, you nod and say, “ok, but do _me_ a favor and chill a little.  Gonna freak everyone around here out with that attitude of yours.”

As you turn around to leave, Bro shouts after you, “She’ll help you!”

You turn your head and face him sidelong.  That little outburst was so unlike Bro that you’re literally thrown off.  “What?”

“She’ll help you,” Bro repeats, a little quieter this time.  “That’s all you need to know.  Trust me on this one. I promise it’ll be the last time you’ll ever have to just take my word for things again.”

“The last time?” you ask, spinning fully around and marching back in front of your older brother.  He always seemed so much more important than you, so much better, so much taller.  But in this moment, he’s just another incubus, no better than you, and shockingly, he’s exactly your height.  In this moment, Bro is just your brother.  “Bro, what are you planning?  For fuck’s sake, tell me.”

He shakes his head.  “It’s not about me lil’ man, it’s about what’s in here,” he says, tapping his index finger to your forehead.

You gaze critically at Bro.  Your eyes see his smile, but you can feel the sadness on him.  And more than all, you feel his overwhelming sense of pride.

What is going on with him?  Somehow, you know that you won’t have a chance to ask him later.

_This is it._

The thought is crazy.  It makes absolutely no sense.  You see Bro every day, like it or not.  He’s always been a part of your life, always there to save you.  Why are you suddenly getting this horrible feeling that you’ll never see him again?

You do your best to shake it away, nodding at him slowly.  “Bro? Don’t do anything crazy, ok?”

“Never dream of it,” he says, sounding incredibly sincere.  “Dirk, I’m proud of you.”

It’s the most praise Bro’s given you since—well, ever.  He’s practically telling you he worships the ground at your feet.

_He loves you._

There’s no mistaking it.  That’s exactly what he meant when he said he was proud of you.

You catch the gasp before it makes it out of your throat.  Striders don’t gasp.  At least, not in front of Bro they don’t.

“No they don’t, but you remember what Striders do, right?” Bro asks gently.

“Striders stick together,” you murmur back.

“Damn straight,” he says, then pats you on the back.  Bro gazes at you just a moment longer before cocking his head to the side and giving you a grin.  “Now go get ‘em, lil’ man!  Make your older bro proud!”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” you murmur, not bothering to say bye as you walk out the door.

“I know you will,” Bro says back quietly as the door shuts behind you.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Fight some zombies!**

The Old Plaza Mall is a picturesque vision of urban decay.  Scrapped storefronts and graffitied walls surround you and Jake.  Escalators that haven’t functioned for at least a few decades are sprinkled about, and in many places the ceiling tiles cave through the flakey asbestos covered scaffolding.  Multi-paneled windows are nothing but cracked and shattered glass now. The remnants litter the ground, crunching beneath your boots as you walk through.

For a few seconds, there’s silence.

And then, you hear the moaning, the distinctive shuffling, and you _smell_ the putrid decay of your targets.  Seconds later, the rotting bags of flesh themselves begin to pour out of the storefronts.

There are hundreds of them.

The sound of Jake cocking his shotgun reaches your ears, and you turn to see him grinning maniacally.  “Ready for some target practice, Strider?”

“Born ready,” you grin back, pulling out your katana and taking a dramatic pose, just for fun.

There is no countdown.  You haven’t needed that for a long time now.  As one, you and Jake both rush forward, Jake with his guns blazing and you with your sword slashing.

The zombies don’t stand a chance.  You split up, covering the upper and lower floors of the mall, chancing running up and down the escalators and jumping from store to store.  Chunks of obliterated zombie rain on the floor like a summer monsoon.

In ten minutes flat, you are both back to where you started.  Jake twirls his shotgun merrily while you wipe the zombie dust off your blade.  “I’d say we accomplished that in record time, wouldn’t you?” Jake asks, stashing his gun away.

“Hell yeah.  Now let’s get the fuck out of here,” you murmur, not mentioning why you’re so anxious to leave. 

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Go help Bro!** 

Bro.  You are really worried about Bro.

You can’t get back to Haven fast enough.

Really, you can’t.  Before you’re even back, you already smell the burning in the air.  You can see the light of the flames from miles away, and _damn it_ your Jeep won’t drive any faster than 120 mph!!!

The black smoke fills the air for blocks around Haven, and you hear Jake coughing a bit as you pull up as close as you dare to go.  You’re both out of your Jeep and running.  Concerned, you glance briefly at Jake, noting that he’s covering his mouth with his sleeve as he goes.  Once again, you are thankful you don’t need to breathe.

“You ok?” you ask him as you run.

Jake’s eyes look a bit teary from the smoke, but he nods at you decisively.  His voice is muffled from his shirt, but you hear him say, “Yes, let’s hurry!”

The orangish glow of fire spews from the front door and all the windows of Haven.  You really hope that everyone got out of there already, because you know that even with Jane’s life magic, there’s no coming back from being completely burnt alive.

Oh shit.  Bro was in there.  You just know he was in there.

Suddenly your last conversation comes back to you, his words flying by at light speed.  Your eyes widen with realization. 

He knew he was never going to see you again.  He knew this was going to happen.

“BRO!!!” You scream, about to run into the building.

But something holds you back.  More like, someone holds you back.

You turn around to find Jake firmly grasping your arm.  “You can’t go in there, Dirk!!! You’ll be roasted alive!!!” he shouts at you over the sound of the wreckage.

“Bro’s in there!  I have to help him!” You yell back.

“You got bigger concerns to worry your pretty little selves about.”

The voice catches you off-guard.  You were so focused on the burning Haven, on the thought of losing Bro, that you completely neglected the most obvious question of all.

_Why is Haven on fire?_

And the second question comes to your mind a few seconds too late.

_Who did this?_

Your face is on the pavement half a second later, and for a few moments, your vision bursts into horribly bright darkness.  When your sight returns to you, the first thing you see is Jake, similarly on the ground beside you, his face pressed against the cement and his glasses crooked and cracked on his face.

You struggle to get up, only to find that your body is firmly bound up in restraints.  Your arms are crossed over themselves behind your back, and your legs are tied together.  You can see out of the corner of your vision that whoever did this pulled quite a number on Jake, binding him completely from his neck down.  You can only imagine you are in a similar state.

Suddenly, you feel a sharp stab in your side, and your chest is on fire.  You cough, and specks of blood sprinkle the sidewalk next to you.

“Hey watch it, Slick!  You gonna undo my pretty little binding!” The voice is scrawny, male, and reminds you of what weasels would sound like, if they could talk.  It’s the same voice that told you that you had bigger concerns just a few seconds ago.  You would guess that it’s the demon responsible for Haven’s burning.

You hate him immediately.  And he is definitely a demon, with the same foul energy as Spades Slick.  There is no mistaking it.

He’s one of the Midnight Crew.

“Trust me, dis guy deserves everythin’ I’ma gonna do,” a voice that you recognize as Spades Slick says from beside you.  A second later, you feel the sharp stab of his knife in your side again, and you bite the side of your cheek, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you scream.

“Ain’t that enough?  Won’t boss be mad?” a third voice, thicker, deeper, asks slowly.

“We’re all in deep shit if we don’t get back soon!” A fourth voice, smaller, meeker than the rest, declares.

Just how many of these guys are there?

Jake is hauled out of your view, and your thoughts immediately fly to helping him.  “JAKE!” You shout, struggling to do something. Anything.  But, once again, you find that you are completely unable to move.

And then you feel yourself behind lifted into the air.  You’re thrown over the shoulder of someone very large.  Spades Slick shoves his face in front of yours, so close that you can taste his evil energy and smell his foul breath.  His grin is impossibly large as he slowly runs his knife from your neck up to your chin, drawing a thin line of blood in its wake. 

“Aww, ya worried about youse lover?  How precious,” Spades croons insidiously. “Don’t ya worry, I’ma take real good care of him.”

“Don’t touch him, Spades!  I swear if you do I’ll,” you begin to shout, but you stop when you hear a sound you never wanted to hear.

A soft whimper.  From Jake.  He’s holding it back, but he’s in pain.  And there’s nothing you can do about it.

“JAKE!!!”  You scream again.  You take a breath, ready to scream more, but suddenly you feel a blunt pain in the back of your head.

For a moment, the world is bright and filled with agony.

Then, there is nothing but darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually Part 1 of 2. Ideally, I'd have liked to combine both the chapters into one, but then that would have been ridiculously long. And since the second half isn't done yet, there wouldn't have been a chapter this week. =/ 
> 
> So, I hope that in the meantime you've enjoyed part 1! Part 2 should be ready by next week, and it will answer all those questions about Jake! 
> 
> Are you excited? I am! =)


	13. Goodbye

 

**Dirk == > Wake up**

“ _Hey lil’ man, you can’t go giving up yet._ ”

You aren’t giving up.  You’re just pleasantly unconscious.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Wake up** 

“ _What about Jake?  You’ve got to help him right?_ ”

Jake!  Yes, you’ve got to help him.  He was hurting.  Someone captured him.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Wake up!** 

“ _How are you gonna help him if you can’t help yourself first?”_

You… don’t know.  How are you going to do anything?

* * *

 

**Dirk == > WAKE UP!!!**

“ _Get up, lil’ man.  GET UP!!!_ ” 

Suddenly, you gasp, and your eyes snap open.  You’re lying on the ground in a dark room.  And by dark, you mean _dark_.  By nature, you can see quite well without much light, especially after adapting to wearing shades 24/7.  But even when you tentatively lift the sunglasses off your eyes, you still have trouble seeing completely clearly.

Wait, you can lift up your shades?  That means you can move again.

You bring your hands in front of your face, opening and closing them a few times and you shift your legs a bit from where you are laying on the ground.  What appears to be a stone ground, if you had to venture a guess.

Instinctively, you reach behind you for your katana.  Shockingly, it’s still there.  You thought that the Midnight Crew would have been more careful than that.  Or maybe it’s something worse.

Maybe the situation you’re in right now is so bad that they don’t care.

You work yourself up to a sitting position.  By now, your body has managed to heal itself, but you’re still cautious about your surroundings.

It doesn’t take you long to realize there isn’t much here.  You appear to be sitting in a stone cell.  The only light comes from a narrow barred slit in a metal door.  You aren’t graced with windows.

You are, however, graced with one thing that makes you extremely happy.

“Jake,” you murmur, shifting over to where he is still lying unconscious on the floor.  “Hey, Jake, wake up.”

He murmurs softly and rolls over, his eyes blinking blearily up at you.  “—isn’t quite that time of the morning, good sir.  No tea, no thank you.”

You’ve spent enough time with half-awake Jake to recognize when he isn’t fully conscious yet.  Despite your surroundings, you grin at him and do your best to mimic his accent.  “Oh I do say, good sir, it is quite that time.”

Jake wrinkles his nose at you and frowns, “are you from—are you from _India?_ ”

“Yes, Jake.  I’m from India.  How did you guess,” you say flatly, unable to fully hide the amusement from your voice.

“No you’re not, you’re from Brazil,” Jake yawns deeply, snuggling into your thigh. 

“China,” you suggest, running your fingers lightly through his fluffy dark hair.  You don’t know why, but you find something about touching his hair very soothing.  Relaxing.  You could sit here and do this all day and not get bored.

When your eyes finally adjust enough to see that the lenses of his glasses are still cracked on his face, you frown.  Gently, you remove them, setting them aside.

Jake doesn’t offer you any resistance.  He only takes advantage of the lack of obstruction, burying his face deeper into the crevice between your leg and pelvis.  He mumbles into your pants, “mmm…Dirk.”

If it were up to Jake, you have no doubt that he would snuggle with you all day.  Or night.  Whatever it happens to be right now.  You don’t really know.

But you know that there are more urgent matters to attend to.  You can’t just sit around in a cell all day.  Nor do you want to.  So, you attempt to gently shake your boyfriend awake again.  “Hey, Jake, I need you to wake up.  We’re in what you’d call ‘a bit of a pinch.’”

“ _A bit of a pinch?!_ ”  Jake exclaims.  He sits up suddenly, wide awake.  “Goodness, Strider, why didn’t you say so?!”

You smirk as you watch Jake rub the sleep from his eyes and blink as he glances around.  “Got any idea where we are?”  you ask.

“Not the foggiest,” he responds, frowning.  “How in the blazes did we end up here?”

“The Midnight Crew jumped us,” you answer regretfully.  “Jake, I’m sorry.  That was my fault.  I was so caught up on Bro that I didn’t pay attention to our surroundings and I—”

“Hush, Dirk, I’ll have none of that malarkey,” Jake says, quieting you with a chaste kiss on the lips.  Then, he returns to frowning, quietly observing your settings.  “Stone floor, stone walls. No window.  Steel door.  Magic enhanced barrier—”

As he lists things off on his fingers, you realize something.  You were right.  All those months ago, when you first met Jake, you were right.

He doesn’t actually need his glasses.

Jake seems oblivious to the fact that they aren’t on his face, though, and he turns to you with a serious expression.  You will always love the way Jake looks, naked or clothed, glasses or no glasses. But without the spectacles framing his face, you find that his severe countenance actually looks extremely hot on him.  “Have you tried to escape?”

“And leave without you?” you ask, shaking your head.  “No, I haven’t tried yet.”

“I highly suggest we do, though I’m not entirely certain it will be possible,” Jake murmurs, his frown deepening.

Wait.  Not possible?  You never considered that you wouldn’t be able to bust out of this joint.  Especially when you still have your brokenly powerful katana.  You stand up, readying your katana, and prepare to escape.

And you realize, with increasing concern, that Jake was right.

You can’t get out.

You’re trapped.

Next to you, Jake is creating a myriad of cacophonous sounds, firing every gun in his inventory at the walls and the door, the ceilings and the floor.  But nothing does so much as put a small crack in any of the stones. 

How is that even possible?

“This is the strongest magic barrier I have ever seen!” Jake grunts beside you, as if he’s answering your question.

You close your eyes and attempt to sense the barrier.  It’s harder for you to do than simply sensing someone’s presence, but with enough effort, you can feel it.  There’s no doubt about it. The Midnight Crew is involved.  You can feel the evil energy lacing every stone, every crevice. 

Frowning with distaste, you open your eyes again. You’re shocked to find Jake already sitting with his back to one of the walls, his arms wrapped around his knees, which are balled up to his chest.  His voice is muffled from having his head in his arms as he says, “this is a very bad situation we are in, Dirk.  Very very bad.”

Slowly, you walk over and sit beside him, leaning your back against the wall too.  You snake an arm behind his head and grab his shoulder, pulling him to you.  Jake leans willingly into you, resting his head against your shoulder.  For a minute or so, you simply rub his arm, tasting his concerned energy and frowning. 

His unease is palpable.  Something is upsetting Jake right now and making him more nervous than you think he has ever felt.  Wait.  Cancel that.  He _may_ have felt about this bad the morning after you had to use your influence on him.  The morning he begged you to forgive him with apple and peach French toast. 

Not that he needed to beg at all.  You weren’t mad at him in the first place.

After a while, you decide to murmur, “Jake, you know something that you’re not telling me, don’t you?”

The typically loquacious Jake is silent.  That’s a yes.

You lean into him, resting your cheek against the fluffy mess of his hair.  Gently, as if you’re talking to a child, you plead, “Jake, you know I love you, right?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums into your shirt.

“I’ll let you in on a secret about me,” you finally decide to murmur.  “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.  I didn’t know it was possible.  You are _everything_ to me, Jake English.  And I will never leave your side.”

Jake stiffens as you say these things to him.  “Truly?” he asks in disbelief.

“Truly,” you repeat, hugging him to you even tighter.  “So please, if my love means anything to you at all, tell me what’s going on.  You don’t need to keep secrets from me.  Whatever they are, we can work through them.  I really believe that.”

Jake shudders next to you, and he clings to your shirt with his free hand, burying his face deeper in your sleeve.  “Dirk—” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and broken.

You don’t know how long you two sit together on that dirty cell floor. 

Finally, Jake sits up.  He moves out of your grasp and leans his head back against the stone wall.  You watch as he takes a deep breath, calming his nerves.  He is less agitated than he was before, and finally, he is ready to explain some things to you. 

“The Midnight Crew,” he begins.  “We have been at each other’s throats for quite some time now.  They are similar to Damara, Kurloz, and Meulin, in the respect that they have a bizarre fascination with me.”

He pauses for a moment, then says, “No, I should amend that.  They have a bizarre fascination with something that is _inside me_.”

Jake then stops to take another long and deep breath.  You don’t interrupt him.

“It took some time for me to realize it, but their fascination is more than mere curiosity.  It is an _obsession_ ,” Jake growls.  You can feel the anger rising in him as he continues, “they will stop at nothing, and I mean absolutely _nothing_ , to get to me.”

Knowing the Midnight Crew, you don’t doubt it.

“Villages were destroyed, countless innocents slaughtered,” he continues, shaking his head miserably.  “I couldn’t let that continue.”

He is silent a little longer, reminiscing about the past.  Suddenly, like an old picture film, you begin to see flashes of destruction with no sound.  Crying children, homes on fire, cities brought to ruin.

You press your eyes shut, but the images continue to assault you.  Destruction and ruin, poverty and desolation. 

And in the middle of it all, Jake.  Jake standing amongst the ashes, holding a silent litany to the dead around him.  Alone.  Unable to do a thing.

Why are you seeing these things?  What is going on?

“I—gathered a crew of men together once, long ago, to fight against them.  They were loyal warriors and sorcerers, each with his own unique ability.  There were 15 of them in all,” Jake murmurs.  A small smile comes to his face as he says the next words. “We all wore the most dashing hats and suits.  We called ourselves The Felt.”

A chill rises through your spine when you hear the name.  You’ve heard of The Felt.  You know what happened to them, and it wasn’t pretty.

“For quite some time, we held the Midnight Crew off.  Neither side could destroy the other, and no more innocents were harmed.  It was difficult work, but at long last, we were finally at a standstill.  But then, there was—an incident,” Jake’s voice falters at this point.  You get the distinct impression that he is withholding something from you as he continues.  “Damara and Kurloz came onto the scene.  I suppose Meulin did too at this point, though I honestly cannot remember her.  And when they joined forces with the Midnight Crew, that tipped the scale.”

“They—did something to me,” Jake murmurs, bowing his head down.  He runs his fingers through his dark hair, clutching and pulling at the strands in what can’t be a comfortable way.  “I—don’t even know when it happened, or what it was, but when I came to there was only death.”

As clear as the afternoon sun, you see it.  Jake, standing alone.  The Felt in broken piles at his feet.

“Only one managed to escape,” Jake whispers quietly.  “Number 8.  The only dame.  I haven’t the slightest clue where she may be now, but bless her heart that I never found her body.”

You’re struck with the overwhelming grief pouring off Jake.  But you bear it without a sound.  Instead, you simply collect him to you again, holding him tightly while he stares blankly off to the other side of the cell.

Jake shakes out of it quickly, though.  He murmurs quietly, “I brought all of that up for one reason.  This cell was undeniably created by the Midnight Crew.  It was created to contain me.”

He turns to you, and you see the hurt in his green eyes as he continues, “Dirk, I’m sorry.  I fear I’ve dragged you into something bigger than you realize.  Not only is there no way out, but knowing the Midnight Crew, our certain doom is also on the horizon.”

“Certain doom?” you echo.

“Yes,” Jake affirms, closing his eyes and searching inwardly.  When he finally senses what he was looking for, he opens his eyes to you again and says, “I thought so.  We’re trapped in another dimension.  A dimension that is destined to implode within a month’s time.”

Quietly, you assess everything Jake has told you.  After a few mental calculations, you say, “maybe if we can break out of this cell, we can find something that will help us get back.”

“You don’t understand.  There is nothing else out there.” Slowly, Jake shakes his head and murmurs again, “I’m so sorry Dirk.”

“Two things.  First, Jake, none of this was your fault, so stop saying that,” you tell him.  “Second, I refuse to believe that there’s no way out of here, and I’m going to keep trying to find a way until it kills me.”

And that is exactly what you do.

For several days, you and Jake try everything you can think of to escape.  The slits in the door are a tease.  Nothing but darkness is outside of your cell, but you refuse to believe that there is no way out.  If Bro taught you anything it’s that nothing is impossible.

Thinking of Bro, you are still worried about the fucker.  You’re almost 100% positive it was his voice that woke you up initially, but you’re also almost 100% positive that you hallucinated it.  Bro is nowhere to be found.

After the first day, Jake actually seems quite chipper.  He’s gone back to his usual self, laughing and making silly quips and lame movie references.  It’s strange behavior, and you can’t help thinking that something doesn’t quite match up.

But, if Jake is happy, then you are happy.  At least, you tell yourself that.  You can think of 1,000 other places you would rather be than here, but if Jake is here, nothing can be so bad.

You tell yourself that for a few days, but soon you realize that you have a bigger problem on your hands.  One you aren’t entirely certain you can handle.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Starve** 

Yep.  That’s exactly what you’re doing.  It’s been 12 days now since you first were placed in this cell.  Jake has amazingly not shown any signs of hunger at all.  As you _still_ don’t know what he is, you can’t exclude the possibility that he was eating all this time just for fun.  It would be an extremely Jake-ish thing to do.

You, however, are not so fortunate.  Jake had a box of fruit snacks, a stack of pancakes, and two cans of orange soda stored away wherever he happens to store things.  But those disappeared within the first couple days.  

Without normal food supplementing your diet, you start to feel the effects of hunger rather quickly.  At first, it’s just a dull annoying ache.  It’s easy enough to ignore.

But sooner than you would like, your hunger begins to grow, curling within you like a ravenous creature.  Jake is constantly on your mind now.  Specifically, fucking Jake.

It isn’t as if he hasn’t offered.  Jake can tell that you’re in pain now, and he tries several times every day to get you to sleep with him.  In a sense, you do sleep with him.  You still cuddle and snuggle on the cold stone floor as if you were back at home.  But you don’t dare take any of his energy.  You can’t rob Jake of that.

You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if _you_ were the reason he died.

And you tell him that, every time he makes adorably awkward yet horribly tempting advances on you.  Each time, Jake insists that he will be fine, that you won’t hurt him.

You don’t sense any dishonesty in his statement, but every time, you can feel that there is more to what he is saying than his words.  When he says “I’ll be fine,” it feels like that phrase is missing an ending.  “I’ll be fine because—”

Because what?  You can’t imagine how to end that sentence.  Ok, that’s a lie, you can imagine a million different ways Jake’s phrase ends.  None of them are good.

Even though fucking Jake is constantly on your mind now, you’ll be damned if you give in so easily.  Every day, you are determined to figure a way out.  It isn’t until today, the 12th day, that you finally think to ask, “hey Jake, where do you keep all of your guns?”

Jake blinks at you, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  “In my Sylladex, of course.”

That was not what you were expecting.  “Jake, what the fuck is a Sylladex?”

Jake continues to blink at you.  Slowly, he asks, “wait a moment, Dirk, are you telling me that you don’t have one?”

“No,” you sigh at him.  “No I don’t.  Care to enlighten me?”

“Of course!”  Your boyfriend’s expression brightens, ecstatic to be able to show you something.  “It works like this!”

Jake doesn’t do anything.  He doesn’t say any magic phrases. He doesn’t even seem to concentrate at all. 

Suddenly, a large grenade launcher appears in his hands.

You back away a few centimeters in surprise.  You always knew Jake had the ability to make things appear and disappear at will, but you never bothered to watch him actually do it.  Seeing him pull a giant thing out of thin air is—disturbing.  “The fuck?” you breathe.

Jake looks down at the gun fondly as he murmurs, “I’m actually not surprised you don’t have one.  Most people don’t.  It was an ability of one of my men—one of The Felt.  He gave me one and taught me how to use it before he passed.”  After his explanation, Jake lifts the gun into the air and it disappears.

It only takes you a few seconds to assimilate this information and decide how to use it. “Jake, can you put _anything_ in your Sylladex?”

“Hmm, I suppose so,” he murmurs, touching his index finger to his chin in thought.  “Why do you ask?”

“Can you put _me_ in your Sylladex?” you ask, watching as his eyebrows lift up far past where the rim of his glasses used to be.  “And then materialize me on the other side of the door?”

It takes Jake about a minute to fully process your request, but when he does, his face lights up like a kid watching a fireworks display.  “Why, I suppose I _could_ do that!”

Eager as always, Jake wastes no time walking up to you and placing his hands on your arm. “Ready for an adventure, Strider?”

And suddenly you feel it. A strange pulling sensation that starts from your core and moves out to the rest of your body.  It’s as if your soul is being ripped from your body and shoved into a small glass bauble, stored on a shelf in some dusty alchemist’s library, and forgotten for a few hundred years.

And then, the reverse happens.  You’re being pushed out through your center, like an inverted vortex, and everything that is you suddenly _exists_ again.  When you come to, you realize that you’re staring at Jake’s expectant viridian eyes through a narrow set of bars.

You’re on the other side of the fucking door.  Finally.

“Dirk?  Are you all right?  I suppose I should have warned you, I’ve never tried that with a sentient being before, alive or dead,” Jake decides to tell you now.

“Yeah, I’m in one piece,” you grudgingly admit, feeling your body to make sure you aren’t missing any parts.  You don’t think you are. 

You glance around, only to realize that you’re in a very small chamber, even smaller than the cell.  A ladder is within arm’s reach beside you, leading up into the unknown.  You can’t wait to get the hell out of here.

Searching the door, you quickly find the handle.  It opens easily from this side.

Immediately, Jake springs out with a look of excitement on his face.  “Goodness, it’s about time we made it out of that blasted cell!  I can’t wait to explore!”  With fervent determination, he begins climbing the ladder.  You follow closely behind.

Jake places his hand on the trapdoor above you and says, “this is it, Strider!  I can feel it in my adventuring bones!”

Fuck yes.  You are finally getting the hell out of here, and it isn’t a moment too soon.  Jake opens the hatch, and you feel a rush of cool wind blow in.  He disappears up, and you quickly follow.

You aren’t entirely certain what you were expecting outside, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

The world above is a wasteland.  Sand stretches as far as you can see, and you suddenly have little hope that anything better exists beyond.  It’s nighttime, and first quarter half-moon hangs overhead, lighting the way.  Soft dunes of sand are illuminated by silvery light, and around you, the sand ripples and continues to blow, stinging your exposed cheeks and hands.

Jake is quick to materialize two fashionable scarves out of his Sylladex.  He wraps a green one around his face and offers you a classy orange one.  You quirk your eyebrow at him.

He laughs lightly and explains, “It was meant to be a birthday present.”

“Jake, my birthday isn’t for another 8 months,” you say flatly.

He laughs again, and this time you can tell it’s a nervous laughter, “well—I don’t know.  You can’t blame a lad for being prepared!”

You think back to what Jake got you on your birthday.  “But the Blade Trilogy was so enamoring.”

“And exciting!  Yes! I quite agree! Splendid series!” Jake enthusiastically responds.  Then, he admits sheepishly, “but after I gave it to you, I could tell that it wasn’t your type of movie.  Strider, I can’t always seem to guess your taste in movies.  So this year—”

“I get it,” you say, ceasing his self-depreciating rambling.  You give him a soft smile before tying the scarf around your face.  “It’s a great gift, Jake.  Thank you.”

“What do you say, Strider?  Are you ready for the next journey?”  Jake holds out his hand to you, the sides of his eyes crinkling in a way that you know he’s grinning widely.

You smile back, taking his hand in your own.  “Let’s do this.”

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Striders keep their cool** 

Yes, they do.  And you are determined to keep yours, even though you and Jake have trudged through this desert without shelter for days now.

You are quite thankful that you aren’t a vampire, otherwise you would have burnt to a crisp the first time the sun came out.  Your fair skin protests a bit under the scrutiny of the blazing sun, but Jake’s scarf and your shades do a decent job of protecting you.

Speaking of your shades, AR still has yet to come back.  You’re starting to miss talking to that fucker, because at least he would be able to provide you with some distraction.  Instead, the only things you have to focus on now are your insatiable appetite and Jake.

The sun does nothing to help your hunger, which claws through you now, ripping you to shreds inside.  It’s to the point where Jake is the only thing on your mind now.

Jake Jake Jake…

And not really in a good way.  You want to take him and pound him hard into the sand, hear the beautiful timber of his voice as he screams for you, feel his arms around you, his pleasure…

Jake Jake Jake…

But you don’t let yourself do that.  You are a Strider, and damn it, you are going to keep your cool.

You focus only on Jake, who continues to be quite all right.  Chipper even, as you walk day and night with no end in sight.  You’ve stopped to sleep only a couple of times, and both times you had to fight off his advances.

You think Jake is worried about you.  When he looks at you, his eyes have a soft, sad expression.  His voice is tender and full of concern when he pleads with you to have sex with him.

But every time, you refuse.  Because even though the incubus inside you has clouded your mind now, you remember that there was a reason you weren’t going to feed off Jake.  It was something he said...

“Dirk!”  Jake exclaims, pulling you from your thoughts.  “Dirk is that a mirage, or do you see it too?!”

Jake’s pointing ahead in the distance, and holy fucking hell, there actually _is_ something out there in the distance.

It’s a tower.  It takes you another day to reach it, but it’s now your lifeline.  Your way out of this place.  Once you’re back home, you can take Jake up on all his offers.  You can figure your shit out and Dave’s shit out and Bro’s shit out and Jake’s shit out.  You’ll figure all the shit out.  The shit will be your little bitch because you’ll be anywhere but in the middle of this fucking desert starving while your boyfriend swings his irresistible ass in front of you.

By the time you reach the tower, you’re really struggling.  Your vision is hazy, and your feet give out from underneath you.  Reaching the end of your strength, you collapse ever so ungracefully to the sandy floor before the tall metal structure.

Jake is at your side immediately, heaving you up to a sitting position.  “Strider!  Oh dag nabit! I knew you were feeling worse than you were letting on!”

You grin, feeling your lips crack a bit from the motion.  “heh—can’t get anything past you, can I?”

He kisses your forehead, hugging you tightly to him, and you get a tiny teasing taste of his bountiful energy.  His beautiful viridian energy.

But Jake is moving away from you all too soon.  You want to protest, but nope!  Strider cool.

“I need to explore, but I shall be right back, all right?”  Jake says.  “I know you’re better at this, but perhaps I can figure out what this contraption is and what it’s doing.”

Jake leaves your side.

You watch as the sun slowly crests over the horizon, bringing a fiery glow to the land.  A long dark shadow falls over you from the tower, and you wonder what the fuck it could be.

The sun is high in the sky when Jake finally makes his way back over to you.  With a defeated sigh, he sits beside you.

“Well?” you ask, your voice hoarse and dry.

“It’s a bomb,” Jake says simply.  “I apologize for taking so long, but I wanted to be absolutely certain.  It’s Clubs Deuce’s handiwork, designed to take out this entire dimension.  The dimension the Midnight Crew created just for us.  Well, for me.”

“Ok,” you murmur back, because really what the fuck else are you supposed to say?  “How long?”

“One day,” he whispers back. “That’s all we have left.”

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Spend your last day with Jake** 

You try to push him away, because by this point, you can’t stop yourself from tasting and taking his energy every time his skin touches yours.  But Jake adamantly refuses to leave your side.  He pulls you underneath the shade of the tower, and you lean against the metal scaffolding as the day rolls by.

Your brain is fucking Alice in Wonderland right now, and Jake is the little white rabbit that you’ve been following across the fucking desert.  And if you look above you, you can make out the shape of a giant spikey ball, the bomb that the Queen of Hearts is going to drop on you in less than a day’s time.  Off with your head!  And Spades Slick with his shit-eating grin is the Cheshire cat.  There’s probably a mad hatter reference in here somewhere too.

Fuck Alice in Wonderland.  You never liked that movie anyway.

Jake doesn’t say much as the day goes by.  He’s content just to hold you, and you are happy closing your eyes, breathing in his scent and feeling his presence.  Even though you’re a ball of pain on the inside, you can’t really move anymore anyway, so you don’t have to worry about attacking Jake.  It’s kind of a relief, and you can just let your mind wander.

Night falls on the land, but the light of the full moon makes the sandy wasteland around you shine like a million diamonds.  Jake’s face is in front of you, smiling.  He’s saying your name.  He’s beautiful.

You feel a brief smile pass your lips, and you slowly close your eyes.

And then his lips are on you, peppering you with butterfly kisses all over your face.  On your cheek, eyebrow, nose.  Every kiss is a burst of flavor-licious energy, slowly bringing you back to your senses.  You’re kissing him before you realize it, your tongue hungrily caressing his, craving more. 

You open your eyes and realize that Jake’s sitting in your lap, his arms wrapped around your neck.  He’s lightly moaning, pressing his dick into yours as he dips his tongue into your mouth again and again.

You’re grinding up against him, and oh hey, when did that boner happen?  Well, better show Jake how much you appreciate him.  As you gain strength, your hands are on him, pulling him to you, drawing him so close that it hurts because fuck you can’t imagine living without this man.

Jake’s moaning softly now, encouraging you to continue.  You let your hands slip lower, beneath his shorts.  With one hand you start pumping his dick, and with the other you grasp his ass tightly, grinding him into you. Jake gasps from the friction, and he presses into you even harder, his voice a harsh whisper as he murmurs, “Yes—Dirk, that’s right—keep going—please—”

You growl back, your voice deep and guttural as his motions become more frantic, faster.  He’s close.  He’s close to giving it up to you and filling that hole inside you that desperately craves to be filled.

It’s fucking rainbows and sunshine when he comes.  The most beautiful thing you’ve ever felt, and when you kiss him, its ecstasy.

Breathing. Hard labored breathing.  Next to your ear.

It smells like Jake.  It feels like Jake.  It—

—oh shit.  What did you just do to Jake?!

Your eyes snap open, and you panic when you feel his limp form in your arms.  “Oh fuck!  Jake!”

And then he murmurs softly, “shh, no need to shout.  We’re the only ones in this bloody dimension.  I can hear you just fine.”

“Oh thank fuck you’re ok,” you breathe back, hugging him to you tightly.

Jake hugs you back, then sits up and gives you a sex-satisfied version of his award winning smile.  He cocks a grin at you aims one finger at you like a pistol and pretends to shoot.  “Told you I’d be ok.”

“You had me worried as hell,” you murmur, withdrawing your hand from his pants.  As you bring your semen coated fingers to your lips, Jake quickly smacks it away.  You frown at him.  “Jake, that felt great, but I’m still kind of starving here.  Getting you off fed me enough to get my head back on straight, but your jizz will—”

Jake laughs.  “Dirk, don’t you think I know that by now?  And I know something that will fill you even more, but you’ll need to save that because—”

You pause, waiting for his response.  Does he want to fuck you?  Jake should know by now you don’t really need any lube and that—

“—because I’ve never had a penis inside me before,” Jake finishes his sentence quietly.

You gape at him.  “You can’t be serious.”

He only continues to gaze at you fondly with his emerald eyes.  “Dirk, I want you inside me.”

“Jake, it was lucky that I didn’t kill you already. If I have sex with you, I don’t know if I can control it enough to—” you murmur seriously.

Jake cuts you off again with a quick kiss.  “It wasn’t luck. I already told you, you won’t hurt me.  But if that’s not reason enough, the explosive above us should be.  We’re dead in a few hours anyway, right?”

You actually aren’t inclined to agree with him anymore.  You’re fairly certain that you could stop whatever bomb the Midnight Crew set up.  And then, you might be able to find a way out of here, and—

But suddenly Jake has your full attention.  He’s standing up and slipping off his shorts. You can see his still semi-erect dick, dripping with cum that you are craving to lick off.  He chuckles as he takes off his shirt.  “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

You can’t.  You want to, but you can’t.  As Jake takes off your boots and pants for you, you let it happen.  He slides your shades off your face and removes your shirt, baring your skin to the night sky above.  You feel his warm thighs press against yours as he digs his knees into the sand beside you, facing you with his legs spread around yours. Slowly, he dips his head down and captures your lips in a gentle kiss that makes you crave him more than ever.

When he backs away to look at you, a slight flush dusts his cheeks.  “I—don’t really know what to do from here,” he admits shyly.

Jake English?  Shy?  You never thought you’d see the day.  Or night, in this case.

“Three months of sex and you don’t know what to do from here?”  As he flushes even deeper, you smile lightly at him and pull him tenderly to you.  Quietly, you murmur into his ear, “just hug me and do your best to relax.  I won’t hurt you.  I promise.”

You make good on your promise.  Before you even think of touching him back there, you coax his balls into giving up a bit more of his cum, watching hungrily as it slides down his cock.  You have to restrain yourself from doing anything else with that tasty morsel, because you will need it for Jake’s comfort soon.  Amicably, you pull him by the waist so that your dicks are touching again, and you gingerly begin to finger them together, knowing he’s probably sensitive after just releasing.

Once he seems distracted enough by the attention to his dick, you slowly and gently begin working first one and then two of your semen-slicked fingers into your boyfriend.  You force yourself to take it slow, because hurting Jake is absolutely the last thing you want to do.  His grip around your shoulders tightens when you push the first digit into him, but Jake continues to be remarkably adaptable. 

When you think he is ready, you nimbly begin to brush the tips of your fingers along his prostate, knowing from far too much experience exactly where that should be.  Jake inhales a shaky breath, and when his eyes lock with yours, they are full of questions.  He leans back in, resting his chin on your shoulder and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

_What is that delightful feeling? Does this happen to everyone when they have sex?  Is this what it feels like when I fuck you? Please don’t stop Dirk.  Touch me there again.  Oh… oh God!_

That—was weird.  Jake must be whispering in your ear or something.  It’s strange that he would say those things out-loud, but sex does tend to make people do unusual things.

But you give him what he asks for, and you lovingly dote attention on both his dick and his prostate, earning yourself a pile of sexually aroused Jake in your arms.  He’s breathing hard against your neck, and he’s murmuring expletives when you touch him that only encourage you to touch him more.

And _fuck_ does his energy taste good.  You’d be lying if you said you were doing this just for his pleasure, because feeling the ecstasy rolling off him is arousing and feeding you so well. 

Jake is one of the most compliant lovers you’ve ever had.  You wish you had more than a few hours to appreciate him, but you’ll take what you can get.

Since you didn’t come with Jake, your boner never went away, and after working his ass and dick enough, Jake’s erection is back, tall and proud.  You continue to caress Jake’s sex and your own, pressing and sliding them together.  The leftover of Jake’s cum spreads along your dick, lubricating it nicely. 

Damn.  Jake came a lot.  You guess you _have_ been making him wait for it for quite a while. 

It isn’t long before he gives you a lust-laden look and murmurs, “Dirk, I think I’m ready.”

You spread your fingers inside him, gauging the compliance of his muscles, and you decide that he should be prepared enough.  As you’ve noted, Jake is remarkably adaptable, after all.

Gently, you remove your fingers and guide him by the hips until he’s positioned above your dick.  Tenderly, you whisper, “take your time with this Jake.  Don’t feel like you have to go fast.  I want you to be comfortable—”

But before you can even get that last sentence out, Jake has already slid all the way down onto you, sitting on you so fast that you actually hear the smack of his ass hitting your thighs.  He hisses lightly and presses his eyelids shut for a couple moments.

“Jake!”  You gasp, instinctively clutching his hips tighter with concern.  “Fuck!  Are you ok?”

“I—think so. That went a lot deeper than your fingers, Strider!”  Jake opens one eye first, hesitantly, and then the other.  He looks up and off to the distance as he thinks about it, wiggling his butt on you to gauge it.  “It doesn’t hurt.  It just feels a little different.  I’ve never put anything up there before!”

In your time, you’ve had more lovers than you care to count.  You have never had one look so adorable while wiggling his ass on you.

And _fuck_ does he feel good surrounding you. 

“Do I start moving now?” Jake asks, completely in earnest.  He flushes slightly and stammers, “I’ve umm—never done this before.  And you probably have so perhaps you could give me an inkling?  A clue?”

You smile softly, realizing that Jake is just fine.  No longer worried, you allow yourself to relax, leaning back against the metal infrastructure of the tower.  “Give you an inkling?” you repeat the odd  Jake-ish phrase fondly.

He sees your grin and flushes even deeper.  “N-now see here!  Not all of us have the skills of an incubus! So—” Jake pauses.

_Don’t make fun of me, ok?_

What the fuck.  You’re certain you just heard Jake’s voice, but you know his lips didn’t move.  What’s—

Jake looks at you sheepishly.  “I-I’ll try my best, Dirk.  But—” Again, he closes his mouth, ceasing to talk.

_Please don’t be mad if I’m not good at this._

Fuck, it happened again.  You furrow your brows slightly.  It’s almost as if—

As if you were—

You pause.

Well shit. 

Looks like you’re a budding telepath.

Thinking back on it now, it makes sense.  All those times you responded to Jake and he looked confused, you wrote it off as a lack of understanding on his part.  But what if it wasn’t that?  What if you were just rudely plucking the thoughts from his head and responding to them?

You’re following in Bro’s footsteps.  Great.  Just fucking great.

But you don’t really have time to be thinking about all of these things right now.  Already, the few seconds you’ve devoted to this line of thought has Jake frowning, doubting himself.  You definitely don’t want that.  So, your voice is calm, and you rub his thigh soothingly as you reassure him lovingly, “Jake, you’re doing great.  You have no idea how fucking happy I am that we’ve made it this far.  Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Jake seems a little relieved by your words.  Then, he gives you a look that makes your cock twitch in expectation.  “I’m ready, Dirk.”

You circle both your arms around him, grabbing two handfuls of his plush rump. You sigh softly, letting them slide between your fingers once before getting a more firm handle on them.  Then, you carefully guide him an inch or two up your dick, and then back down again.

Jake gasps softly as his bottom makes contact with your thighs again.  You don’t feel any pain coming off him, but you do feel a soft wave of pleasure.  Eager for more, you coax him up and back down again.

Jake is a fast learner when it comes to physical activities.  Sex is no exception.  It doesn’t take him long to develop a rhythm, leaning into you, pushing out his ass, and then curling his abs in, bringing himself back down on you.  And slowly, you begin to reciprocate, undulating your hips and pushing your dick up into him in time with his movements.

Jake is so warm.  So real.  Every time he surrounds you, you fall in love with him all over again.  You don’t ever want to stop having sex with him.

His energy is so alluring, peaking in delightful waves of pleasure as the head of your dick rubs against his prostate.  Of course, you’ve felt this pattern with other lovers that you’ve taken, but somehow, like everything else, this is different with Jake.

Because you love him, you somehow feel like you’re even _more_ in-tune with Jake, both physically and mentally.  You wonder if you’re somehow swapping your energy, fueling each other in some fantastically orchestrated play, building up towards what is certain to be an exquisite climax.

_I love you I love you I love you…_

You hear him repeating it over and over in his head. Every time his hips snap back, there’s the light smacking of skin on skin, soft gasps coaxed from Jake’s mouth, and occasionally deep moans that he doesn’t even try to hold back anymore.

It’s perfect.  Jake is perfect.

You are so in love.

You feel it when he starts getting close.  His grip tightens on you, and his movements become more frantic, his breathing more erratic, his energy surrounds you in staccato peaks of titillation. 

You’re trembling now too, because what Jake feels _you feel_.  And because Jake’s this close _you are too_.  And when a pleading cry leaves his lips, full of want and desire, it sends shivers down your spine.  You hear your own mirroring growl, deep and needy. 

He loves you.  He wants you. He needs you.

You love him. You want him. You need him.

It’s so bright, so beautiful.  So full of raw pleasure and happiness that is like a waterfall erupting from the side of a mountain.  Jake holds you tightly as he comes, and you don’t even try to hold anything back. 

You fill him with your love.  You fill him with your heart.  You fill him with everything you have.

He shudders, grinding himself onto you a couple more times as he finishes.  You hold him closely through it, never wanting this moment to end.

Slowly, his breathing returns to normal.  Jake leans back up enough to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.  It lasts for such a long time, but it isn’t enough.  You can never get enough of him.

At first, his kiss is filled with the brightest happiness imaginable.  Jake’s love for you is a shining beacon, and he shares that love so freely with your lips and tongue.  And then, his kiss begins to grow a bit more desperate.  His lips quiver, and you feel the change in his disposition.

And then you remember.

Fuck.  It _is_ the night of the full moon.  Of all the nights, why did you let him have sex with you _tonight?_

Concerned, you pull away, and look into his eyes.  They’re still his usual beautiful emerald color, but you don’t allow yourself to relax yet.

He’s crying.  Oh shit, Jake’s crying.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” you ask with concern.

“No, no it’s not that,” Jake murmurs, wiping the tears away and giving you the saddest smile you think you’ve ever seen.  “That was fantastic, Dirk. Absolutely fantastic.  I wish we had tried that sooner.  The problem is—”

You furrow your brows.  What could possibly be wrong now?  Other than your limited lifespan, of course.  There is still a bomb hanging over your heads, which you had honestly put out of your mind until just now.

“The problem is that I care so much about you, Dirk,” Jake says, looking at you with the most conflicted green eyes ever.  A part of him looks immeasurably happy, and another part looks immensely sad.

“Are you sad because we only have a few hours left to live?” you ask.  “Because, I’m actually ok with it.  As long as I get to spend my last few hours with you—”

“No no, don’t even say things like that,” Jake shakes his head.  He kisses you again and slowly moves off you.  Dutifully, he brings you your clothes.

Now that you’re fully fed, you have more than enough strength to put them on yourself.  You clip your shades to your shirt, watching Jake closely as he slowly and sorrowfully puts his own clothes back on.  “Jake, I’m only telling you the truth.  If I can’t figure out how to disarm this bomb, we’re both toast.”

“You’re not going to die, Dirk,” Jake responds quickly.   “But you’re not going to disarm the bomb either.  It’s impossible to disarm, because it’s not really a bomb.  It’s a timer, counting down to the end of this dimension’s lifespan.”

You must be giving him an incredulous look, because he chuckles and continues, “yes, dimensions, like creatures, have a lifespan.  Did you realize that?”

“No, I didn’t,” you respond honestly.

“Well, lifespan or not, it is no matter,” Jake says sadly.  “I can’t let you die, and bloody fucking damn it, the Midnight Crew _knew that when they put us here!_ ”

“Jake, you’re starting to confuse me a little,” you admit.

“Do you remember what your friend Roxy told us all those months ago?” Jake asks slowly, averting his gaze as he does. “About how all of the angels are waging a holy war against all demons, searching for _one_ _demon_ in particular?”

Your stomach drops down to the sand beneath you.  You have a _very_ bad feeling about where this is going.  Silently, you nod.

“Dirk,” Jake whispers, his voice almost inaudible despite the silent night air around you.  Slowly, he drags his gaze back up to you.  “I am that demon.  Rather, the monster inside me is.”

This is the secret Jane was talking about.  The thing she couldn’t tell you.  You’re 100% certain of it, and you’re frozen. Unable to say anything back to him.  Unable to move your lips.

“I was a guardian once, long ago, when our universe was still new.  The first.  Before any of the angels of Prospit even existed.  It is my duty to protect our world and its beings.  It always has been, and it always will be,” Jake says quietly.

“Wait you—just how old are you?” You ask again.  You’re having trouble wrapping your brain around Jake’s words, because has he _really_ existed since the beginning of creation?  Is that even possible?

“I told you, Dirk, I’ve been around forever.  So has he.  _He_ came into existence around the same time I did.  The world destroyer.  The bane of all,” Jake pauses, swallowing uncomfortably before continuing.  “Lord English.”

Oh fuck.  You’ve definitely heard that name before.  It’s the name that conjures nightmares in all the demon children.  Everyone in Derse knows his name.  The name of the biggest most powerful evil being in existence.

Honestly, you had hoped that Lord English was just a myth.

“To save everyone, I found a way to trap him inside my body.  It takes most of my strength to maintain it, but for the sake of our universe and all others, it must be done.  Safe within the confines of my soul, Lord English is unable to do a thing, but there are times when he is stronger,” Jake explains, giving a brief glance at the full moon above.  “You’re a smart lad, I think you can figure it out.”

“The full moon,” you murmur.  “Fuck, Jake, I didn’t know.  I’m so sorry I made you—”

“Think nothing of it,” he says quickly.  Then he continues, “I can usually control him.  Lord English has only fully surfaced from within me once in the past.  He was the reason my men died, The Felt.  He killed… everyone.”

You are suddenly assaulted with an infinite barrage of images.  Death, destruction, pain. Burning, screaming, crying.  And Jake.  Alone in it all.

“Truly, I should stay in this dimension and let myself and Lord English die.  It’s what’s best for the universe.  For everyone.  But—” Jake smiles sadly at you.  You know what’s coming next, and it’s already breaking your heart.  He pulls you into a tight hug and says, “ _I love you, Dirk_. I love you and I can’t let you die.”

He finally said it. He said it out loud, and you want nothing more than to keep hugging the shit out of him and to tell him you love him back.  But you get the terrible feeling that Jake is about to do something you will hate. 

“I can’t lose you,” he continues, whispering fiercely into your ear. “So you have to promise me—”

“Jake, no, I don’t know what you’re fucking thinking but stop it right now,” you demand, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can make sure that they even make sense.  “I love you too, I’d _die_ for you, so fucking hell, Jake, don’t even think of—”

“Dirk you have to stop me,” Jake says gravely, ignoring your plead and pulling away.  “ _He_ won’t want to die, so he’ll find a way out of here.  Follow him to safety and then kill him.  Kill me.”

He materializes from his Sylladex a deadly looking gleaming iridescent gun, engraved with symbols that you don’t recognize, and places it in your hands.  “One shot, through the heart.  That’s all it will take.”

You’re ashamed to say you don’t figure out what he’s planning until it’s a little too late.  He’s taken a few steps away, walking into the light of the full moon before you’re on your feet, reaching for him.  “Wait, Jake!!”

With a sad smile, he turns back around and murmurs, “goodbye, Dirk.”

Before you can do anything, a bright light surrounds him. Electric sparks of vivid green spread across his body like lightning. Suddenly, a darkness pulses around him.  Darker and more evil than even that of the Midnight Crew.  It’s the deepest and most demonic of blacks.  You get the feeling that this is the evil from whence all others sprung.

You hear a strangled cry, and you know your beautiful lover is in pain.  Jake, your dorky boyfriend who loves terrible movies, who sucks at Halo but plays with you anyway, who never hesitates to wake up early every morning and make you breakfast, who always has your back on every mission, who smiles at you softly and cuddles affectionately, who _loves you_ as much as you love him.

“Jake, I can’t lose you either,” you whisper, but you know it’s already too late.

The dark pulsing light fades, and your boyfriend is gone.  In his place is a towering green scaled demon, with flashing multicolored eyes, a gaudy regal green robe, and a wicked looking gun.  Even if Jake hadn’t told you everything, you would have recognized him from the horrifying burdensome dark aura alone.

Lord English.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love putting songs to everything. Especially DirkJake. The song below is “Monster” by Imagine Dragons, and it fits this moment perfectly. Check it out. =)
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a4Y7IUByBkU


	14. Dave Strider

He’s gone.

Jake’s gone.

Your boyfriend is gone. 

For half a second, you think about how your heart may never be whole again.

But then the half second passes, and you realize that you have a terrifying world-eating monster on your hands.

Lord English is every bit as frightening in real life as he was in those horror stories Bro used to scare you with when you were little.  And by scare, you definitely don’t mean he scared you or anything.  Nope.  You didn’t hide in your bed until Bro came to get you later or anything.  Not you.

The demonic being is repulsive, both in appearance and aura, and everything about him screams for you to run away.

But you can’t do that.  You can’t ignore Jake’s last words, pretend they didn’t exist.  He did this so that _you could survive_.

Jake died for you.

Well, you suppose he technically isn’t dead quite yet.  There’s still something you have to do first.

You swallow as you clench the gleaming firearm that your boyfriend gave you.  It looks like it should be holy, but it isn’t hurting you at all to touch it.  You aren’t really sure what’s going on with it, but you trust Jake.

_One shot, through the heart.  That’s all it will take._

The haunting memory of Jake’s words comes back to you, and your grip on the gun tightens.  You remember Jake’s instructions.  Follow Lord English to safety, then kill him.  Simple.

Except that it isn’t simple. Not at all.

Lord English glares at you with those fucking creepy eyes, flashing every color of the rainbow at seizure-inducing speed.  The monster opens its maw, and a loud roar that you somehow can only equate with a _honk_ comes out.  Then, he turns away from you, and with razor sharp claws, he swipes the air in front of him.

It tears a hole in the fabric of space and time itself.  You don’t know where it leads, but you know it’s your ticket out of here.

Without giving you so much as a glance, Lord English steps through the tear.

Immediately, you see the rip beginning to heal, to close. Quickly, you flash-step through, barreling headfirst into the unknown.

Like when Jake put you in his Sylladex, you feel yourself being pulled from your core, warped and squished like an accordion and then pulled out like taffy.  Colors flash around you.  Darkness surrounds you.  You feel euphoric bliss.  You’re so nauseous you want to retch.

You don’t know how long you’re spinning and spinning as you stand perfectly still.

And then suddenly you land on solid ground.  You’re wobbly after your trip, but you manage to stay on your feet, on the lookout for the monster that brought you here.

It isn’t hard to find him.  Lord English is right in front of you.  He keeps looking at you, with those unnerving eyes.  Instinctively, you bring Jake’s gun up in front of you, cocking the hammer and placing your index finger on the trigger.

 

You aim for Lord English’s heart.

 

You aim for Jake’s heart.

 

You take a breath as time slows down around you.

 

Lord English reaches for you, his claw sluggishly coming your way.

 

If you kill him, you’ll stop the tyranny of the most dangerous demon in existence. Somehow you know that you will save the lives of thousands.

 

It’s so simple.  Jake made it so easy for you.  Just point and shoot.

 

Except that it isn’t easy at all.

 

If you kill Lord English, you kill Jake.

 

Your heart will never be whole again.

 

It’s selfish as fuck, but…

 

You can’t do it.

 

You can’t kill Jake.

 

And suddenly, he’s reached you.  Lord English grabs the gun and swipes it from your hands, pinching it between his claws and pulverizing it into bits.  He grins a malevolent and wicked grin.

Oh fuck.  What were you thinking?  That he _wouldn’t_ destroy the very gun that could kill him?

Lord English drops the broken shards on the ground, then fixes his horrendous stare back at you.  You hesitate the half a second that it takes for him to grab you by the neck with his giant claws.

And then you hear it.  An awful, grating sound akin to nails on a chalkboard in your head.

**DIRK STRIDER.  BECAUSE OF YOU. HE LET ME FREE.  WATCH YOUR WORLD BURN.**

For a moment, you stare into the demon’s eyes, watching the colors quickly shift from one to the next.  You wonder if Jake is still in there somewhere.  If he can see you.  If he’s disappointed that you didn’t kill him.

But, you don’t have long to wonder these thoughts.  A second later, the monster swings his head forward, cracking his forehead into your skull.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Wake up**

You have been knocked out enough times in the past month that this is starting to become a habit.  A habit that you would rather break.

When you come to, Lord English is nowhere in sight.  At least, you don’t think he is.  But you’re not exactly thinking about him right now.  You’re a little distracted by the sharp sword being pressed against your neck.

A sword that Dave is holding.  He’s on top of you, pinning you to the dirt.  You can’t move any of your limbs. Damn it, you’re really getting tired of this.

You guess you should have been prepared for that, but usually he isn’t the one to start your Strifes.  Nor do you usually start strifes when one of you is unconscious.  You’re about to say that, when you notice that Dave isn’t smiling at all.  He’s not even smirking his typical little smug grin when he (rarely) gets the upper hand on you.

Dave looks pissed off.  By some rare fluke, he isn’t wearing his sunglasses, so you can fully see the cold menacing look in his red eyes.  There’s a snarl on his lips, and when he speaks, his voice is a dangerous growl, “who the _fuck_ are you, and why do you smell like _my son?_ ”

Before you can answer, he’s lifted you up and pushed you back down onto the hard earth below, jarring your shades slightly crooked on your face.  You stare at him incredulously and manage to choke out, “Dave?  When did you have a kid???”

“How do you—,” Dave begins to murmur but pauses.  He looks surprised for a second, but his expression quickly melts back into a hardened scowl.   Dave presses the sharp end of his katana further against your neck, lifting it up to your mandible.  “You had better think hard about your next answer.  Because it might be your last.”

Holy fuck, you’ve never been so frightened of Dave in your life.

Once again, you find yourself at a loss for words and time, but you’ve got to force yourself to _think_.  If you die now, then there’s no way you’ll be able to save Jake.  You have no idea how you’re going to do that, but you are certain it will be impossible if you don’t survive.

First thing is first.  Who is this guy?  Because even though he looks like the spitting image of your younger brother, and he seems to have his name, he doesn’t know you. 

Either Dave lost his memory at some point, or this guy isn’t your little bro.  And you’ve tormented Dave with your smuppets enough to know that he could never _ever_ forget you.

Clearly, this isn’t the present day.  And you highly doubt it is the future.  But if this isn’t the future, then where did Lord English bring you?

You take a breath, and you smell the earth around you.  The smell of wood-burnt fires.  Horse manure.  Pesticide free grass and the crisp scent of leaves in the winter air.

No automobile exhaust.  No factories.

It hits you suddenly.

You’re in the past.

And you were so hung up on this guy being Dave that you neglected to notice that there are subtle differences between the two of them.  His hair is a tad paler, and it fans slightly in the back in a way you know Dave would work for hours in front of the bathroom mirror to avoid.  The color of his eyes is even more vibrant than your brother’s.  The deep color reminds you of the time you found Dave half-dead in that Derse cell. Though his eyes are similar, the deep set lines beneath them are telling.  This Dave is stronger, older, and exudes more confidence than the one you know.

This Dave is not your brother.  In fact, now that you are thinking about it, you’ve seen him before.  You don’t know how you missed it.

Damara has conjured his soul in an attempt to torment you twice now.

This man is your father.

Dave’s eyes widen, and his grip on his blade falters.  But quickly he regains his composure and keeps the blade against your neck.  “I am waiting.  Do not lie.  I will know if you are lying.”

“I’m from the future,” you murmur.  “I swear I haven’t done anything to your son.  Nor do I intend to.  I only mean to destroy the monster, Lord English.”

His eyes narrow at you for a moment.  Then, he releases you and stands, waiting for you to get to your feet.  “Then you have a lot of work to do, kid,” he murmurs.

As you get to your feet, you finally notice your surroundings. You were so distracted by Lord English that you haven’t even had a chance to properly mourn Jake, let alone really take a look around.

You are standing on the grassy field before a village.  Or at least, what used to be a village.  That burnt wood you smelled earlier?  That would be the village.

It’s in pieces.  Chunks of homes are strewn all across the field.  What looks like it was once a stone chimney is shattered not ten feet away from you.  Noticing the debris by your feet, you see the sharp shimmering pieces of the gun that Jake gave you.  You wince slightly, realizing that you weren’t strong enough to do it.

You didn’t have the heart to kill Jake. 

Carefully, you gather all of the pieces together and shove them in your pocket.

When you finish, Dave finally offers you his hand and says, “Dave Strider.  Though you already seem to know my name.”

“You look like someone I know,” you respond, taking and shaking his hand.  “Dirk Strider.”

It takes him a moment to release your grip.  It’s all you need to read him.  From your bare fingertips touching his, you taste his energy and somehow, you _know_ that you were right. 

This isn’t your brother. 

This is absolutely your father.

His energy is more powerful, more chaotic than your brother’s.  His soul is a darker color, that of a true incubus.  He tastes like regret, passion, and despair.  Well, now you know where you got those delightful traits from.

From time to time, you wonder what it would have been like growing up in a “normal” household.  As normal as it could be with an incubus for a father.  You don’t remember too much of your childhood, but you do remember Bro.  Always there for you.  Always a silent sentinel if you ever needed help.  Or an asskicking.

Bro provided for you and Dave.  He must have done a decent job, because you’re both still around today.  At least, you hope that you both are.

It’s been a while since the attack at Haven, but you still wonder about Bro and Dave.  You hope that they are alive.  You hope that Bro was able to fight off the Midnight Crew and whoever else might have attacked. You hope that for once Dave thought with his dick and stayed the night at the fairy land with John.

You wonder what this man thinks about you, if he knows that you are his son.  Like you and your bros, he has the characteristic practiced Strider mask.  And though you haven’t known him long, the slight shift in his expression is telling.  It seems like he has come to some conclusions about you as well.  You wonder if he is going to say anything about it, but as he takes his hand back, he only says, “you have come a long way.  I wish there was time to chat, but as you can see, we are in the middle of a war.”

“Who’s winning?” you ask.

“The monster is,” he responds lowly.  “The one you call Lord English.  You are the only survivor in this town.  That makes me very suspicious.  Why did he let you live?”

Jake. Is there still a part of him in the monster somewhere?  Did he—?

You swallow as a heavy lump forms in your throat.  No.  No no.  You can’t let yourself think about that just yet.  “He wants me to watch the world burn,” you respond quietly, thinking of Lord English’s words.

“How kind of him,” Dave says dryly and begins to walk away from the village.  “Though Lord English seems to have a soft spot for you, it is not safe here.  There are other dangers.  Come with me.”

Dave leads you off the beaten path and into a wooded area.  You wonder what other dangers he is referring to. You’re about to ask when he answers your unspoken question.

“Did you forget that there is a war?  It is not safe to discuss this here.  We have a long way to go.  How fast can you run?” Dave asks.

Your think of all the flash-stepping training Bro gave you in the past.  “Pretty fast.”

Dave smirks.  “See if you can keep up.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Try to keep up**

Holy shit if your father isn’t the fastest incubus you’ve ever seen.  He’s even faster than Bro.  It takes all of your flash-stepping skills to mildly keep up with him.  As you run, he often stops and waits for you to catch up, but he never waits long.  You’re thankful for the abundant energy that Jake gave you, because without it you wouldn’t hold a candle to keeping up with this guy.

A few hours later, you finally arrive at the outskirts of a small village.  This one hasn’t been touched by Lord English yet.  The sun has just dipped below the horizon, and the tiny flickers of candlelight illuminate the windows of the village’s wooden homes.

Dave leads you to a secluded home in a glen a short distance away from the village. Unlike the other homes, this one is crafted largely of stone.  It seems a bit larger than the other homes as well, with an interesting double chimney design.

He knocks on the door with a peculiar rhythm before opening it and walking in.

Inside, you are immediately hit with a strange sense of nostalgia.  The warmth of the cabin, the cedar scent of the support beams overhead, the smell of the cast iron pot bubbling with stew on the hearth.

You can’t find any other name for this place than _home_.

“Daddy!” A small, high pitched voice exclaims from somewhere beneath you.  You feel a rush of wind by your ankles as something tiny quickly runs past you.

“Hey there, lil’ man!” Dave chuckles.  When you turn to face him, you can’t hold back the gasp.

It’s you. 

The little boy in Dave’s arms, that is happily climbing up on to his shoulders, is not even three feet tall.  Despite the lack of styling products in his hair, the shock of spiky platinum blonde hair is distinctively your just-rolled-out-of-bed style.  He has your tangerine eyes, and he smiles with a toothy grin that you have long since abandoned.

Dave smiles and asks, “were you a good boy today?”

“The best!” the child responds, throwing both his hands into the air happily.  He finally fixes you with his large curious eyes, points a finger at you, and asks, “who is that?”

“He works with me,” Dave responds simply, strolling across the room.  “Now I think it is someone’s bedtime.”

The little you cranes his neck furiously to keep looking at you, even as Dave walks into the next room. “Daddy, he looks funny!  What is he wearing?  Daddy no!  No bed!  Not tired!”

Despite his protests, Dave shuts the door behind him.  You can only assume that the younger version of you has been put to bed, like it or not.

Suddenly, you feel something sharp being pressed against your back.  Instinctively, you tense.

“Who are you?”

The voice is female, rich in tone, and it flows off her tongue like honey.  Though her words are innocent, the intention behind them is clear.  Again, you recognize this voice.  Across the span of centuries, you know without a doubt who is threatening you.

Your mother.

“My name is Dirk,” you murmur quietly, standing still so as not to alarm her.

The sharp thing is pressed even harder into your back.  “By what form of sorcery do you look like my son?  Dave may trust you, but I do not.  I shall ask again, _who are you?_ ”

You’re really getting sick of people not believing you.  Especially when they’re your own parents.  You take a deep breath and quietly sigh, “I assure you, this is not sorcery. I look like him because _I am him_.  I have followed the demon, Lord English, from the future; I am here to destroy him.”

For a moment, you sense her hesitation.  Finally, she relinquishes, and you feel whatever was poking you leave your back.  Slowly, you turn around.

Soft blonde hair curls into a short bob by her neck. The golden strands are held back by a dark handkerchief folded into a band shape across the top of her head.  Her eyes are lavender and piercing.  In her hand is a wicked looking wand, which you assume she was pointing at you.  Somehow you know that the wand isn’t just for show.

It’s your mother.  Rose. 

Your very _human_ mother. 

And she’s _extremely_ pregnant.

You’re struck for a moment about how similar she looks to the Rose you know in the present day.  The Rose that is good friends with your little bro.  The Rose who is dating Kanaya at Haven.  You have no idea who Rose’s parents are, but with the similarity in looks, you wonder if reincarnation is actually a thing.

Though Damara has tried to torment you with this woman’s ghost time and again, it never did anything to you.  But now, as she stands before you in the flesh, you’re suddenly struck by the same nostalgia that you felt when you entered this home. 

You’ve never been one to run crying to anyone.  When things got tough, Bro always taught you to suck it up and deal with it.  Life wasn’t going to hand out lollipops for being a crybaby, but if you actually worked hard to solve your problems, then maybe something might happen. 

Bro was a firm believer in tough love. You’re kind of glad that he was, because you actually learned to stand on your own two feet and do things for yourself.

But something about standing here, in front of this woman, makes you want to run into her arms and cry.

_Jake’s gone Jake’s gone Jake’s gone…_

The thought plays through your head.  A broken repeating loop in time.  With a heavy heart, you push it away.  You’ll think about Jake later.  You’ll get him back, you WILL.  But for now, you have other matters to attend to.

Your mother assesses you critically, her shrewd eyes taking you in from head to toe and back up again.  For a few moments, she says nothing.  Then, she softly murmurs, “you are here to kill the monster?  And how do you suppose you will do that?”

“I’m not sure,” you answer honestly, pulling out a piece of the broken gun that Jake gave you.  “I had this, but he destroyed it.”

Rose glances at the fragment sharply, then she looks back at you and says, “what makes you think you will be able to kill him this time?”

She says it in a way that tells you she _knows_ you failed before.  You aren’t sure how she figured it out, but somehow she did.  You shove the fragment back in your pocket almost shamefully, and your brows furrow slightly. “I—”

But before you can answer the question, she’s closed the distance between you.  Carefully, she reaches up and removes your shades.  You let her.  She places a worn hand on your cheek.  Her palms are rough, and they are telling of the hard labor she’s done over the years.  “Dirk, you really are my boy.”

You don’t answer her.  What are you supposed to say to that?

“What happened that made you so sad?” She asks, searching your eyes carefully.

But before you can answer that question, Dave reemerges from the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind him.  Rose glances coyly at him.  Her hands leave your face and instead she holds out her arms to Dave. “My, he fell asleep very quickly.  It is almost like you _influenced_ him to sleep.”

“Darling, you seem just as talented.  Why, it is almost as if you put a _spell_ on him every night,” Dave grins, stepping carefully into Rose’s awaiting embrace.

When you look at the two of them, their smirks look like two halves of the same smile.  It’s not hard to imagine how they could be happy together.

Your parents.  What a weird thought.

You wonder how often Bro used the same sleeping trick when you were little.

Thinking of Bro, you wonder where he is.  You glance around the home, but you don’t see any signs of him.  Huh.  You suppose he was always a loner.  He’s probably out doing whatever the hell he did back in this time.

“So, it seems you have had a chance to speak to our visitor,” Dave says.  He looks at you, and suddenly he is all business.

“Yes,” Rose replies, handing your shades back to you.  “Dirk seems to have quite a bit on his mind.”

“He really should not,” Dave responds quickly.  “There should only be one thing on his mind.  Lord English. And how to take him down.”

Rose gives him a glare, but Dave doesn’t seem to react to it.  “ _Dirk_ is a very important person, and I am certain he would not mind a little sympathy.”

“Really?  Because he just looks like another incubus to me,” he responds expressionlessly.

Rose’s lips twist into a frown.  “Words.  You and I are having them later.”

“Later is a swell time to have them,” Dave agrees then quickly transitions the topic.  “How is the baby?”

“He is doing fine,” she replies, gently resting a hand atop her pregnant belly.  “Any day now.”

“I wish I did not have to leave,” Dave says quietly.  “I want to be here when he is born.”

“I know, but you have to go.  For the sake of everyone,” Rose responds softly.

For the sake of everyone.  You know how heavy that phrase can be.  Your mind immediately flies to Eridan, the friend you’ve had to kill a few times already.  To Bro, who made sacrifices you’re certain you’ll never know so that you and Dave could live.  To Jake, who you just may have to kill for the sake of the world.

You really don’t want to think about that, but you know it’s a possibility.  If you can’t figure out any other way to stop Lord English, your boyfriend will have to die.

Dave glances at you and sighs.  “I fucking knew it,” he mutters under his breath, brushing past you on his way to the other bedroom.

“Geez, attitude much?” you ask, rolling your eyes before you remember that he can see that without your shades on.

He turns to glare at you sharply.  “You had better figure out exactly where you stand.  Soon.  When we face Lord English again, there will not be time for you to think about whether or not you can kill your _boyfriend_.”

Oh shit.  Your dad can read minds too, can’t he?

“Unfortunately, yes,” he spits back.  “Your mind is such a disgraceful mess that I feel repugnant just hearing your thoughts.”

Dave disappears into the bedroom and closes the door, leaving you alone with Rose.

Her arms come around you softly, tenderly, before you realize what she is doing.  Despite the era, she smells clean, like soap and lavender.  Her arms are warm around you, and she pulls you as close to her body as the baby growing within her will allow.  “Please do not mind him.”

“I guess being a douchebag runs in the family,” you mutter.

Rose doesn’t seem to understand your colorful phrase, but she catches your drift.  With a knowing chuckle, she responds, “he has his peculiarities.  We all do.”

She gently tugs at your waist, guiding you to sit on a rug by the hearth.  You sit comfortably beside her, watching the wood-burning fire crackle and send dark tendrils of smoke up the chimney.  The rug is made of durable yet soft cotton, clearly crafted with care.  There are lilac and deep blue hues that clue you in to your mother’s handiwork.

“Did I hear that you have a boyfriend?” she asks gently, pulling you from your observations.

“Had. He kind of turned into Lord English,” you murmur, not taking your eyes from the fire.  You don’t want to look at your mother right now. You never thought you would have to give your parents the “hey, I’m gay!” speech.  Bro made it clear that he didn’t give a shit.  Quite the opposite.  When you were old enough, and he didn’t feel like feeding you every day anymore, he threw Rufioh at you to teach you the ins and outs of lovemaking.

“Oh.  Well that is quite the dilemma,” Rose responds carefully.  “What is his name?”

“Jake,” you breathe his name, a little embarrassed to find your lips quivering when you say it.  Damn it, why is this shaking you up so badly?

“Do you love him?” she asks gently.

“More than anything,” you whisper.  You chuckle softly, bitterly.  “I’ve lived for centuries, but I knew him less than a year.  Logically, it should be impossible to fall for someone so quickly.  But I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.  Jake is—he’s different.”

Rose doesn’t say anything.  She just lets you continue.

“I had the gun in my hands.  I could have killed him.  I could have stopped all the destruction it sounds like he’s already done, but—but I,” your voice falters and you finally turn to face her.  Your mother.  The one who should have all the answers.  “I can’t kill him.  I just can’t do it.”

But Rose doesn’t have any sagely advice.  Instead, her arms come around you again. 

And you know what?  That’s more than enough.

You let yourself lean into her embrace and slowly relax in the warmth of your mother’s body.  Logically, it makes no sense.  You barely know this woman, so how could you possibly find comfort from her? 

But she’s _mom_.  And something within you instinctively knows that.  You were once that little boy that you saw run into Dave’s arms.  You loved her, and you know that she’ll make it better somehow.  She’ll make it better.

“You will figure it out, my dear.  I believe in you,” she whispers.

“How do you know?” you ask, staring again at the fire.  The depths of the flames are so bright that you feel like they’ll consume you.  You kind of want to jump in.  To not have to think about this entire mess at all.

“You are from the future, correct?” she asks.  When you give an affirmative hum, she continues.  “The world still exists, does it not?”

“Yeah.  It’s not perfect, but it exists,” you answer quietly.

“Then that means that you will do something right,” your mother responds softly.

You’re starting to understand now why Bro was so affected by your mother’s ghost.  You love her, and now, somewhere deep in your soul, you remember loving her.  A twinge of remorse hits you as you remember more of the past.

There was a reason Bro raised you.  Not your parents.

You aren’t sure where to begin, but you start with the phrase, “in the future—”

Rose quickly interjects, “I do not know what the future holds, and I do not want to know.  It will not change anything that I will do.  It is enough for me to know that you and your brother are safe.”

You think about Dave, and nod your head.  “Yeah, he’s safe.”

She’s silent for a couple moments before she amends, “and—is he happy?”

“Yes.  He has a pixie boyfriend named John.  They have their issues, but they love each other more than anything,” you murmur.

“That is wonderful.”  You can feel Rose’s warm happiness when she hears your words. 

You’re about to continue and tell her about Bro.  Even though you don’t think he’s been as good to himself as he should be, Rose would probably like to know about her eldest son.  But the words catch in your throat as you feel Rose slowly easing herself away from you.

Gently she sighs, “regretfully, I am exhausted after dealing with the younger you today.  And carrying an incubus in my womb is not without its challenges.  He kicks like the dickens. I must retire for the evening.”

“Ok, I’ll just sleep on the—” you look around for a couch before you realize that there isn’t one.  Damn, you didn’t think there was a time before couches.

Rose understands and says, “there is a guest bedroom next to the baby room.  You may use that.”

“Thank you,” you respond softly, standing and holding out your hand to help Rose up.

She takes it gratefully and you pull her to her feet.  “Dirk, I want you to know something.  I realize I may not have been around for the majority of your life.  I am human, after all.  But I want you to know that I am so very proud of you.  I am proud of the man you have become.”

It hits you in the chest.  Your heart is instantly aglow with a simultaneously warm and remorseful fire.  “Thanks mom,” you murmur again.

“You are welcome, sweetie,” she says with a tired smile.  “Good night.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Sleep** 

You try to, but the beds are a lot harder and lumpier than you remember them being back in this era.  Also, now that you have no other distractions, your mind is finally free to think about what you had been avoiding all day.

You grit your teeth and swallow back a growl.  How could you have been so stupid? How could you have let him do that to himself?

You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing that it was Jake beside you, as he has been every night for the past few months.  You miss the warmth of his body, the flavor of his soul when his skin brushes against yours.

_Jake…_

You bite back a whimper and pull the sheets to you tighter.  He told you what he was.  He finally told you his secret.  Right before he decided to leave you forever.

No, not forever.  You won’t let yourself believe that.  You will find a way to get him back.  You WILL.  And what Rose said really does make sense.  The future is bleak, but it still exists.  Lord English hasn’t destroyed everything, which means that somehow you stop him.

But what if you stop him by killing Jake?

You cringe into the mattress, pulling your body into a tight ball.  No.  No no no no no.  You could never.  You could never.  You could NEVER—

“You could.”

The voice catches you by surprise.  You sit up in bed suddenly.  It takes you a moment to recognize the silhouette of your father as he stands by the door.  How did he open it so stealthily?

“Your thoughts are so loud and frantic that they are practically screaming in my ear from all the way across the house.  Congratulations.  Nobody has ever done _that_ before,” he mutters, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.  “I take it you cannot sleep?”

“No,” you reply quietly.  It’s not like this is exactly an unusual occurrence.  You’ve spent many sleepless nights working on your robots before, but here in the past you don’t have any robots to take your mind off things.  You have nowhere to turn but to the inner turmoil of your soul.

Dave sighs and mutters under his breath, “Rose you were supposed to calm him down.”  He faces you and sighs, “I joked about it earlier, but she has been using less spells on you lately.  Something about not wanting it to stunt your growth.”

You actually smirk a bit at this and ask, “so I take it you believe me?  That I’m from the future?”

“Thoughts like yours do not lie,” he agrees.  Then he reluctantly says, “tell me about Jake.  Wait, no.  Your thoughts already shouted everything I need to know.”

“Are you just trying to get me to talk about my problems?” You ask.  “I don’t need a therapist.”

“I disagree. But believe me, I am not qualified,” Dave responds, but he doesn’t deny it.  “No, I know.  Tell me about the future.”

You arch an eyebrow at him.  “You really want to know?”

“Maybe Rose would like to be left in the dark, but if something is coming, I want to know about it.  Maybe I can do something about it.  And if I cannot, then you better believe I am going to make the most of the time I have left,” he reasons in a way that sounds slightly reminiscent of Bro.

You actually smile for a moment before you register exactly what he is asking of you.  Then, your expression slowly turns somber.  Where do you even begin?  “I can’t promise I know all the details.  As you can see, I’m what… three right now?” You ask, gesturing toward the other room.

Dave nods.  “Almost.  Your birthday is coming up.”

“So I don’t really remember much, but I recall that this war was really—scary.  You don’t live.  Neither does mom,” you murmur softly.  “I don’t remember why.”

Dave’s expression hardens.  His brows furrow and his lips draw into a hard line.  “Are you certain?”

“We never had a funeral service or anything.  You know holy doesn’t mix well with our skin,” you murmur.  “But I know that you aren’t alive in the future.”

“Who is _we_?” he asks, leaning in a bit closer to you, eyeing you carefully.

“Me.  Dave.  Bro,” you list.

Suddenly, your father sits back, a little floored.  “ _Dave?_   She names the baby _Dave???_   Why would she—”

Oops.

“Was I not supposed to say that?”  you ask, finding his expression a little humorous.

“No, I just, ugh well whatever.  I told her it was her choice this time,” Dave sighs. “She was not exactly keen on me picking Dirk.  I guess Dave is fine.”

“You chose—?” You begin.

“I chose,” he finishes quickly.

You both sit in silence for a few moments.  What do you say to him?  You had so many questions you wanted to ask him when you were younger.  But over time, those slowly went away.  You grew into your own, and eventually, you decided that you didn’t need all of those answers anymore.

Dave looks at you sadly, and you remember for the billionth time that he can read minds.  Shit.  But he doesn’t seem upset.  Instead, he simply asks, “do you usually have trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah,” you agree reluctantly.  “It got better once Jake came around, but now—”

“I understand.  Lay down,” he says.  Lightly, he presses on your shoulder, urging you to lie down.  You’re really not sure where he’s going with this, but you do rest back on the uncomfortable mattress.

When he catches you with his wine red gaze, you suddenly feel completely at ease.  You don’t have anything to worry about at all. You can trust him.

_**Yours.** _

“That is right,” Dave agrees with a soft smile.  “Sleep, Dirk.”

A few moments later, you’re lulled blissfully into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals kept me from updating on Update Thursday this time, but I wanted to get this chapter out this week! So I guess we can have a temporary "Update Saturday." ;)
> 
> Also, it was really weird writing Dave and Rose. So weird. All the weirds. But I promise that there is a point to it all!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Btw, I still have a tumblr. Feel free to follow! 
> 
> http://lateniteslacker.tumblr.com/


	15. Her Imperious Condescension

**Dirk == > Wake up**

“Wake up, lil’ man.”

Bro? 

“Five more minutes…” you murmur into your pillow.

“Don’t think so.  We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”  Suddenly you feel the blankets being cruelly ripped away from you.

Ugh, such a dick move, Bro!

Wait, no, not Bro.  Where are you again?

You awaken to your father tearing away your blankets and roughly shaking you awake.  The light of the morning sun is streaming in through the cracks in the windows, and you gaze at him blearily.  You don’t remember dreaming, but that’s probably for the best.

Suddenly you remember what he did last night.  “Did you _influence me to sleep_?”

He cracks a smirk at you, “works every time.”  Then he lowers his voice and murmurs, “and it keeps the little you asleep until I want to wake up.  Trust me, it’s a handy trick.”

“Isn’t it bad for him to sleep that long?” you grumble, groggily sitting up and pressing your palms to your eyes.  You wipe the sleep away and quickly put on your shades.

“Not so much as you would think.  Dirk is a growing boy,” Dave remarks.  “Guess I have a thing or two to teach you about incubus influence.  You can influence more than just the mind.  You can make the very _soul_ decide to sleep.  Shut down their body entirely for as long as you want.”

“Holy fuck, did you just do that to the little me?” you ask incredulously.  As an afterthought, you amend, “and to _me?_ ”

Dave chuckles, “Hell no. Rose would have a fit if I did that.  I only told your mind to sleep.  Do you feel rested today?” 

You think about it.  You’re actually feeling pretty good.  “Better than usual,” you admit.  Though you wouldn’t mind feeding your incubus side.  You were starving for far too long before Jake fed you.  It was enough for you to get by but not enough to fully satisfy you.

Dave reads your thoughts and sighs. “I was worried about that. No time for you to take care of that right now.  Besides, in this era, feeding your particular compulsion will be difficult.”

“My compulsion? You mean, because I like dudes?” you ask. As an afterthought, you add, “that doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“You only like men, whereas I happen to appreciate both genders,” he says in a matter-of-fact way. There is no doubt in his mind, likely because he has already peered into yours.  “Why would it bother me?”

You hadn’t even bothered to consider that homosexuality might not even be an issue in the past.  Was there truly a time when people didn’t discriminate?  When people didn’t care?

“Yes, and that time would be now,” Dave muses thoughtfully, responding to your unspoken words.  “It is a shame to hear that things take a turn for the worse in the future.  But in any event, that is not what I was referring to.  Did you forget that there is a war between humans and monsters happening right now?  Any human found with you will be ostracized and executed.”

Your brows furrow as you ask the obvious question, “what about you and mom?”

“My eye color makes them suspicious, but I hide myself well.  They have yet to come after me,” Dave explains.  “Besides, we live far enough away from the village that we are often out of sight and out of mind.”

“That still seems a little risky,” you comment doubtfully.

“It does not pay to life forever in fear,” he responds.  Then, he offers his hand to you and says, “here.”

When you take it, clasping the bare skin of your hand to his, your father suddenly passes you at least two meal’s worth of energy.  You gasp, recoiling a bit from the unexpected shock.  All of that, just from a _handshake?_   You never knew that was possible.

“Never underestimate a Strider,” Dave says, grinning at you.  Seeing that you’re fully awake now, he turns to leave.  “Rose made breakfast.  There is a bath drawn for you in the next room.”

Your father leaves you with your mind reeling.  Bro was never able to give you that much energy from just a handshake.  Is that one of the differences between your father being a full incubus and you and your brothers only being half?  You decide that it must be.

Before heading outside, you check your shades again, hoping in vain that AR might have come back. 

He hasn’t.  You sigh.  What did Bro do to him?  For once, you could really use the distraction of his aimless chatter and his advice about Jake.

Something in your stomach tightens at the thought of your boyfriend.  Rather than let yourself fall down that rabbit hole, you instead throw open the door to your room and walk out.

Instantly, you are assaulted with a chattering _hyper_ whirlwind.

“Hey! You!  Who are you?  What are you doing here?  Are you going to stay for breakfast?  Eat the pancakes!  Mom makes the best!” The little you exclaims excitedly, jumping—literally _jumping_ in circles around you.

“Holy hell—” you draw the word out into another when you notice a glare from Rose.  “—llo.  You have a lot of energy, kid.”

“Hahahaha!” he laughs, smiling widely and happily at you.  “Mom says that too! So does dad!  Hey did you try the pancakes?”

You pat him on the head, ruffling his hair.  “Not yet lil’ man. Gimme a sec.”

Rose sets a stack of pancakes in front of you when you sit at the table.  It’s a simple wooden table and chair set, but it gets the job done.  She sits down beside you and asks, “did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, Dave made sure of it,” you murmur staring down at the pancakes.

They look a little bit different than the pancakes you’ve become accustomed to.  They’re darker, but somehow they’re a little less burnt.  They’re undeniably pancakes.

Jake used to make you pancakes.

You inhale sharply, taking in the familiar and comforting scent of the cedar-wood home and the pancakes that your mother has so kindly prepared for you this morning. 

No.  No no no. 

You won’t let thoughts of your boyfriend ruin this moment.  And you’ve already promised yourself that you’ll get him back somehow.  You just aren’t entirely sure how you’re going to do that.

“Are you eating the pancakes with your MIND?” little Dirk asks loudly in your ear. He’s climbed the chair beside you and is leaning on the table, putting his tiny face right next to yours.

You wince, “kid, you’ve got a thing or two to learn about volume.  And personal space.”  But you are thankful that he’s pulled you from your own self depreciating thoughts.  You dig into the pancakes and make a hum of approval.  Your mom’s pancakes really are good.  Jane still holds the record in your book, but these are nothing to sneeze at.

Rose smiles knowingly at you then comments offhandedly, “would you like to see him truly get riled up?”

“No.  Please no,” you murmur between bites of pancake.

Rose doesn’t listen.  Instead, she turns to the little you and says, “Dirk, today is December the first.  How many days is it until your birthday?”

“TWO!!!!” He shouts loudly, jumping in the chair.  He wobbles a bit, before grabbing onto the back of the chair to right himself back up.

“And how old will you be?” she prompts again.

“THREE!!!!”  He exclaims, jumping up onto the table in excitement.  He jumps on the table twice before he is suddenly swooped up into Dave’s arms.

“That is enough of that, lil’ man,” Dave chides.  “Feet on the table is a no-no.  Remember?”

“I remember,” little Dirk says, pouting.

“What do you tell your mother?”  Dave asks.

“Sorry mother,” little Dirk says and continues to pout.

“Good boy,” Dave says, finally putting the child down on the ground.  Then he turns to you.  “See what I have to deal with?  When you are finished, come meet me outside.”

You finish the pancakes and find a nice warm bath waiting in another room.  This room also has its own chimney and fireplace, making it toasty and warm.  You could see how it would be relaxing and divine, despite the lack of a shower.

Speaking of shower, you have never felt so filthy in your life.  How many weeks has it been since you were able to shower?  You’re shocked that Jake wanted to have sex with you despite how disgusting you’re certain you were.

Oh no, you did it again. Jake.

You remember the last time you took a bath with Jake.  In the fairy forest.  It was the first time you two really had sex.  The first time you actually heard his thoughts and _knew_ he loved you back as much as you loved him.

Speaking of hearing thoughts—you can kind of do that now, can’t you?

Again, you push the painful memories of Jake out of your mind and instead try to focus on other people’s thoughts.

Outside the door, and you mean _literally outside the door_ little Dirk is jumping and shouting as he plays with some blocks.

_Tower tower TOWER!!!  Coolest best TOWER!!!  All the blocks. ALL OF THEM!!_

Ouch. That thing you told him about volume control?  His thoughts don’t have any.

You try to focus on Rose next, but try as you might, you can’t hear any of her thoughts.

Finally, you extend your reach outside, to where Dave told you he was going.

_About time. I need to teach you about mind reading too.  This is a two way street, kid.  Like love._

Yikes. You startle a bit in the tub, your arms and legs both twitching from the shock of hearing his thoughts so clearly.  Thoughts that he was clearly aiming at you.

You get the feeling that today is going to be very difficult.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Have a difficult day**

Ugh. You can say that again.

When you leave the bathroom, you nearly trip over the tower little Dirk made with his blocks.  Your mother hands you back your clothes, which she laundered while you were in the bath.  Magically, they are both clean and dry 

When you walk outside the house, you are just barely able to parry the sword your father swings at your face.  Nice to know Strifing runs in the family.

“Strife, is that what you call it?”  He smirks, holding his blade down.  “Well done.  You have excellent reflexes.”

“I’ve had a little practice,” you mutter.  “So what’s on the menu today?”

“Today there is someone you must meet.  She is the ruler of the monsters of Derse, and the leader of their side of the war,” Dave says cryptically.

“Oh, you mean Betty?” you ask.

Dave looks at you blankly.  “I would not call Her Imperious Condescension that name.  Come, we have quite a journey ahead of us.”

“Don’t we always,” you sigh.

Your father isn’t lying.  Despite your flashstepping abilities, it takes you both an hour to reach the portal to Derse.  The swirling dark circle is situated in the middle of an inconspicuous grove, nestled within a dense copse of pine trees.  The needles prick like a bitch.  You can see why normal people would never want to come this way.

But then you’re through the portal and into the familiar darkness of Derse.  This particular portal leads right into the interior of the Derse castle.  There is a separate room set up for it, in fact, and Dave easily leads you through the corridors lit with a purplish hue.  It’s clear he has walked these stone corridors many times. When he comes to the throne room, the guards do little more than nod at him, permitting you both to enter.

You’ve seen the interior of the throne room a couple times.  Bro’s taken you here before when things got tough.  But he never left your side. He knew it wasn’t _really_ safe here.  Part of that reason is sitting on a massive throne, staring at you with predatory eyes and a smile full of sharp gleaming teeth.  Her hair falls in impossibly long dark waves around her, pooling by her feet on the floor.  Like the rest of Derse, she is dressed in black with bold hot pink lines traversing her body like a poorly drawn road map.

“Dave Strider, what a pleasure,” Her Imperious Condescension coos in a voice rich as silk.  The familiarity of her voice would be a comfort to you if you didn’t hate her guts so much.

Because you know what happens in the future.  You know that _this monster_ is the one abusing your older brother.

Bro’s secret lover.  The alien queen of Derse.  Her Sadistic Imperious Condescension. 

_Betty._

Dave glances at you once quickly, in question, but he doesn’t dare say anything.  Not in her presence.  Instead, he makes his way up to the ebony throne where she is lounging in wait.  She presents him with her right hand, which he lightly takes by the fingers.  Then he kneels down and kisses a flashy bling-like ring sparkling on her finger.  “My queen, we have come as you summoned.”

“I summoned only _you_ , but this boy a yours… he looks _delicious_ ,” she croons, eyeing you in a way that makes you uncomfortable.  She grins again and offers you her hand.

You take her hand—and shake it.  You do your best to be polite as you stiffly greet her.  “Dirk Strider.”

The Condesce continues to smile, but now it’s taken a more deadly connotation.  She looks at Dave and says, “he has gall, this one.”

“Of course. Dirk is mine,” Dave says, and you would swear that there is a warning tone in his voice. 

You aren’t entirely certain what your father has just declared, but the Condesce does seem to back off a bit.  She snorts lightly, “you incubi are all so – _possessive_.”

Dave doesn’t say anything.  He just continues to stare into the bright fuchsia eyes of Derse’s queen.

Eventually, she cackles but relents, “ _Dirk Strider_ , someday you will be mine.”

“Very unlikely, Betty,” you respond instinctively.

A muscle in Dave’s jaw flickers.

The Condesce does nothing for a few seconds, completely shocked.  Then, she throws her wild mane of dark hair back, her throat contorting visibly in the air as she laughs high and loud.  Slowly, she brings her gaze back down and murmurs in a far too sultry way, “oh Dirk, I am goin’ to _enjoy_ breakin’ _you_.”

“As I stated, Dirk is _mine_ ,” Dave growls, stepping in between you two.  “Now, do you have a task for us, or have I wasted this trip?”

For a few moments, all she does is stare at him with her eerie smile.

Then, in a rush of wind, she’s behind him. Her hair takes longer to catch up with her body, flying behind her as she holds the pronged end of a gleaming golden trident up to Dave’s neck.  You’re not even sure where that came from, but you do recognize it as her prized weapon. 

You grit your teeth but don’t move.  You’re pretty sure this wasn’t how your father died. 

“Do _not_ forget your place, Strider,” she says, her voice somewhere between sultry and a growl.  She leans in closer to him, licking the side of his cheek with a long pink tongue.  “He may be yours, but _you are mine_. So what does that make him, hmm?”

Dave grits his teeth, choking back his answer.

_Do NOT touch him.  DO **NOT** FUCKING TOUCH MY SON!!!_

Dave’s thoughts are loud in your mind, as he contorts his face at the floor, biting back his words.

Her Imperious Condescension’s lips are full and painted in hot pink.  They hover just behind your father’s ear as she whispers, “ _mine._ ”

She doesn’t wait for him to respond.  The Condesce pulls her trident away from his neck and shoves him forward.  Dave catches himself before he hits the throne.

The throne that the Condesce is already sitting on again.  She grins at him, her expression oddly amused and simultaneously annoyed.  Like a sack of hot shit, she drops the previous conversation and moves along. 

Suddenly, she looks less like a lecherous sadist and very much like the ruler queen of Derse. 

“But enough of the chatter.  Lord English,” she finally hisses.  “He has been causin’ trouble for us all.  The humans have never waged a war so fierce.  If it were just the mortals, I would not be concerned, but _English_ is a problem.”

“I know.  What do you want us to do?” Dave asks.  Though you are certain he is still livid with her, his ability to wipe his face clean of emotion is impressive.

“Kill him,” the Condesce orders offhandedly, her expression growing less annoyed and more angered.  “He is killing humans _and demons._   And not just in a friendly let’s have a chat back in Derse sort a way.  When Lord English kills a demon, he consumes its soul.”

You are a little shocked, but you don’t show it.  Strider skills for the win.  You never knew that the Condesce hated Lord English this much.  Then again, until two days ago, you thought Lord English was a fairy tale Bro made up to scare you at night.

“The demons English kills are never reborn again.  They die permanently,” the Condesce growls, her fists balling in barely contained rage.  “ _Lord English must die_.”

“I understand,” Dave says. “Where can I find him?”

“Follow the trail of bodies,” she suggests.  For a few tense moments, you actually believe that’s all you will get from her.  Then she murmurs, “you should not have to look very hard.  The war follows him.  He is coming to you.”

Dave stiffens visibly.  “Your warning is much appreciated.”

“I know.  Also, I am certain you have felt it too.  The discord in the mortal world.  The monster is tearing the very fabric of reality with his existence.  He has not done that in the past,” the Condesce muses darkly.  “Either English has become more powerful than before, or—”

You wait as she continues to muse.  “—or there are _two_ of him in the world right now.  English is a master of time.  Certainly this is not impossible.”

Strider mask.  Strider skills.  Don’t let anything on.

The Condesce doesn’t seem to notice your apprehension.  Instead, she murmurs lowly, “kill that mothafucka.”

“It will be done,” Dave says, nodding to her before turning curtly and walking away.

“Strider, you are Derse’s best.  Do not fail me,” she says in a solemn and definitive way that makes you wonder what the repercussions would be if you did fail her.  Fortunately, you know for a fact that you won’t.

She doesn’t say anything else, but the way her eyes linger on you makes you feel increasingly uncomfortable. 

You’re more than ready to get the fuck out of Derse.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Save Jake!** 

You really want to.  More than anything.  But you can’t do that right now. You’re not even sure where Lord English, and thus Jake, is. 

Fuck, you miss him.

_Dirk. You are getting distracted._

Your father’s voice is in your mind, conversing with you silently as you both sit in the bell-tower of the church in the center of the village.  You aren’t entirely thrilled with the holy charge seeping up from the stones, but your father insisted that this was the best place to practice.  The sun hangs cheerfully overhead, and the villagers stream by down the main rutted dirt road, blissfully unaware that their thoughts are being picked up and read.

Yes, Dave has decided to train you to read thoughts.  It’s still difficult, but so far you are pleased with the results.  You can hear far more than you expected.  Thoughts, feelings, emotions.  They all come swirling at you in one giant mess.

Dave reassures you that it will become easier to pick apart these things with time.  You wonder just how long he has lived.  He doesn’t grace you with an answer.

For the most part, the villagers seem preoccupied with their own mundane lives.  But occasionally, they have thoughts that make you frown.

You glance at your father.  Knowing he can hear your thoughts, you think at him, “ _Why do the villagers hate Rose?_ ”

Unlike the humans below, Dave is very practiced at directing his thoughts.  When you attempt to read his, you receive his thoughts and little else.  Occasionally a bit of his inner emotions bleed through, but he is remarkably adept at suppressing those.  He thinks back to you, “ _because she can do things they do not understand.  They have labeled her a ‘witch.’  They fear her.  It is part of why we live on the outskirts of the village, which I prefer actually._ ”

“ _And they don’t fear you?_ ” You think back.

Dave smirks, “ _Strider skills, as you call them.  I cover my trail well.  And those who become suspicious become—influenced._ ”

You grin at him and get back to practicing.

By the time the sun is setting on the horizon, you are exhausted.  Reading thoughts is far more draining than you had imagined it would be.  Bro always made it look so easy.

“It _is_ easy _,_ ” your father thankfully says to you instead of thinking, giving your telepathic abilities a much needed break as you walk back home.  “Give it a year or two and it will become second nature.  Then, the issue will become learning how to _not_ hear thoughts.  I would gladly teach you that as well, but—”

Your father’s words trail off and his expression stiffens.  You don’t have to read his thoughts to know what he is thinking about.

He knows that his own death is on the horizon.

“Yes, I have come to accept that fact,” Dave responds to your thought.  “Training your telepathy is the most useful gift I can give you before I go.  With it, you will have insight to the inner-workings of the mind.  The key to the psyche, human or demon, is within the mind.  Control that, and you control everything.”

“I thought incubus influence was the most powerful ability we have?” You ask.

“Manipulating souls is indeed powerful,” Dave agrees. “You seem to have a decent grasp on that ability already.”

“I’ve had a little practice, yeah,” you agree, thinking back on the times Bro taught you to use your influence.  To truly contain and control it.

“The ability is not one to be taken lightly, nor is it to be abused,” he says, turning to you with a grave expression.  “Did you know that you can rip souls out of the body?”

“What?!” you exclaim.  Bro never told you that one.

“It is true.  At the very core of our influence is our ability to affect souls,” Dave explains to you.  “Again, it is not an ability to use lightly.  If souls that you tear from the body become lost, they can wreak havoc on both humankind and demonkind.”

Your father is one of the most informative and interesting people you have ever met.  You smile softly at him, despite his grave words.  “I understand.  And thank you.”

“Do not thank me,” Dave responds.  He nods towards his house, which has finally come into view through the trees.  “Until this is a world safe for children, the torch must be carried.”

You blink at him.  Usually, you consider yourself decent at picking apart obscure metaphors, but this one has left you in the dust.  “Care to rephrase that?”

“The fight against evil must continue,” he explains, looking at you gravely.  “Whether it be against demons, sending those who have lost their way back to Derse, or against humans who have become too blighted to recognize morality.  Rose and I fight for Her Imperious Condescension, not because we like her, but because she is aware of where the greatest evil resides.”

“Mom fought too?” you murmur.

“She was not always pregnant, you know,” he says, looking at you wryly.  “And given the opportunity, I am certain she would continue to fight.  Did she not threaten you when I brought you home yesterday?”

“She did,” you agree.  Then, you think of the other bit of information your father told you.  “And the Condesce, how does she know where to find the greatest evil?”

“She has informants everywhere, but even if she did not, she would still know,” Dave says, pausing before he continues.  “ _Betty_ , as you call her, is not of this world.  She is not truly of Derse either.  Her Imperious Condescension is the most powerful being in existence, but I believe that Lord English is even more powerful.  Today, when she spoke of the monster, she reeked of fear.  Did you sense it?”

“No,” you admit.

“Do not feel bad, she hid it well.  You will become better at reading these things with time,” Dave reassures you.

“I don’t want to learn to read her better.  I don’t ever want to see her again,” you mutter lowly.

“That wish is very unlikely,” Dave says.  He glances at you, and you think you sense a twinge of pity from him.  But before you can examine it any further, it’s gone. “Let us go inside.  Rose probably has dinner ready.”

She does.  Little Dirk greets you with a wide smile, pulling you by the hand to the table.

“You have to try the apples you HAVE TO!  It’s the BEST!”  he shouts happily, dragging you over to the seat you sat in for breakfast earlier.

Rose’s cooking really is good, especially for the era.  She has prepared a delightful dinner of fresh bread, rabbit stew, and baked cinnamon apples. 

When it gets late, Dave heaves the little Dirk up into his arms and carries him over to the bedroom.  “Bedtime,” he says.  The child whines a bit but doesn’t put up too much of a fuss. 

Rose continues to sit with you at the table.  She eyes you knowingly and asks, “so how did your meeting with Her Imperious Condescension go?”

“I hate her,” you respond easily.

She chuckles.  “Most do.  You are certainly not alone.”

“Dave said you worked for her too?” you inquire.

“I may have helped your father take down a demon or two,” she agrees.  “Or maybe a few thousand.  We are a fantastic duo, he and I.”

“You both certainly seem to get along,” you respond politely.

“Why thank you, though that is not what I meant!”  Rose laughs, then her expression softens.  She stares at the candle burning in the center of the table wistfully as she recalls, “we met that way.  We were partners for years before deciding to be something a little more.  And then this war started.  There is so much work to be done.”

She looks at you, and there is a sadness in her eyes that is immeasurable.  You haven’t told her the future, but somehow, you think that she knows.  Your mother may not have your father’s ability to read thoughts, but she is wiser and sharper than anyone else you know.

Rose knows that she is not going to survive this war.

“Dirk,” she murmurs, glancing at the slightly cracked door to the child’s room.  “Please make sure they are safe.  I know you are here, and that you are well, but a mother’s intuition is nothing to be taken lightly.  This war is no world for a child.  They will not—no, they _cannot_ survive on their own.”

“They won’t be alone,” you assure her.  Bro was always there for you.  You know that he won’t let you down.

She smiles softly at you.  “Thank you.”         

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Sleep** 

Dave steps into the room shortly after you pull the covers over yourself.  “No nightmares for you, buddy.  We have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Before you influence me to sleep, can I ask you something?” you murmur, completely ok with letting him do that.  You want to sleep too, and you have a feeling you won’t be able to without his help.

“Yeah, go for it,” he says, sitting by the foot of your bed.

“What are you hiding from me?” you ask.

“Excuse me?  What am _I_ hiding from _you_ , Mr. I-am-from-the-future?” Dave snorts.

“Yeah, earlier when you talked about the Condesce, you seemed like you knew something I didn’t,” you explain.

“I know a lot of things you do not know,” Dave says, earning an eyeroll from you. 

“Not what I meant,” you mutter.

Dave is silent for a few moments before he reluctantly begins to talk.  “That woman is powerful but her intentions are not pure. She may do what is best for the mortal world right now, but make no mistake, everything she does is for her own benefit.  She does not truly care for the mortal world at all, nor does she fully care for Derse.”

“But she’s the queen of Derse,” you murmur back.

“I am aware.  She is queen because she forcibly usurped the throne from her predecessor.  Derse is a world based on power, thus the Condesce rules,” Dave explains.  His voice lowers and his tone becomes darker.  “She is a necessary evil, but do not make the mistake of trusting her.  Ever.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him.  “Obviously I hate her.  Why would I ever trust her?  Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I have seen what is in your mind,” Dave responds curtly.

You are about to say more, but he quickly and definitively speaks first. 

“That is enough questions for tonight,” he says.

His captivating crimson gaze focuses on yours, and suddenly you aren’t worried about the Condesce anymore.  Or Jake. Or anything really.  Your mind is filled with a pleasant sensation akin to being wrapped in an infinitely long warm blanket.

**_Yours_ ** **.**

“Sleep, Dirk,” your father murmurs.

Moments later, you fall into a pleasant unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Against all odds, I managed to update during final exam week! No idea how that happened. I hope that you enjoyed reading this chapter!


	16. Happy Birthday

**Dirk == > Be woken up**

Aww man. No not again!

“Yes again.  Rise and shine sweetcheeks!”

No Bro, not cool.  Why are you calling me that?

“Heh, I am not your _Bro_ —”

Suddenly, the sheets are cruelly and mercilessly ripped away from you.  The wooden shutters of the windows are thrown open and the early morning sunlight strikes your face like a stray bolt of lightning.

“—I am your _Father!_ ”

How did he even make that reference?  Star Wars won’t even be a thing for another several hundred years.

You groan, turning unhappily in the bed.  “Just as bad,” you murmur.  You guess Bro got that unfortunate habit of waking you up in unpleasant ways from somewhere.  Then again, you do recall literally throwing your little bro Dave into a freezing cold shower with all his clothes on not too long ago.  And making it rain smuppets on him.

Heh. You guess it is sort of fun.

But it’s not fun right now.  Not when you’re the one being yanked out of bed when you were so peacefully drifting away in slumberland.

You groggily sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes.  Blindly, you reach for the shades you left on the table only to find that they’re not there.  You sit up suddenly, completely alert and filled with fear that AR, your one link aside from Lord English to the future, is gone. But you heave a sigh of relief when you realize your dad has them.

He’s turning them over between his fingers nimbly, examining them curiously.  “You wear these triangles on your face all the time, but they do not seem to improve your vision at all.  What is the point?”

“The point is they’re cool,” you say, smirking at him as he gingerly places them over his eyes.

Dave’s frown is perfectly visible beneath your shades.  “I think you and I have very different definitions of cool.”

Your father hands you back your shades and heads for the door, calling behind him, “same drill as yesterday.  Come out when you are done.”

Today you opt for the bath first, desperately trying to rub away the filth that seems to stick to everything in this past world.  You swear you’ve never collected this much dirt to your body in one day without trying.

By the time you finish bathing, little Dirk has already run outside to play with your father.  You can hear his high pitched giggles and the sound of his tiny feet as he runs in the grass.  Dave pretends to run by the window in extra slow-motion.  Given the height of the window all you see of little Dirk is a flash of blonde hair as he runs by. You can’t help smirking when you hear the heavy thump of Dave hitting the grass followed by a _very_ high pitched and _very_ amused squeal of delight from the little you.  “Ahh! You got me!” Dave fake groans.

A plate of fried eggs and cornmeal is placed in front of you, drawing your attention to Rose.  “Cute, is it not?  I could watch them all day,” she murmurs fondly, taking a seat across the table from you.

“Yeah,” you agree absently, taking a few bites of her cooking.  Good as usual.

Rose rests her chin in her palm and gazes at you for a few moments before saying, “you do not remember any of this, do you?”

You half-choke on a piece of egg but force it down.  Cautiously, you gaze at her, wondering if she will be upset if you answer truthfully.  “I—”

But the look on her face is calm, and there is only a small hint of sadness in her violet eyes.  “None remember events from before the age of two, and few recall memories at his age,” she says, indicating out the window at little Dirk, who is chasing Dave around yet again.  “I do not expect you to remember much.”

“I remember your faces a little.  I thought you were both a lot taller,” you admit, still feeling a bit guilty despite her words.

Rose chuckles, and you begin to feel a bit more at ease.  “Ah, the life of a 2 year old.”

“Hey, my birthday’s tomorrow,” you remind her.

“Why so it is!” She agrees.  “Is there anything you would like for your birthday, dear?”

 _Jake_.

You swallow the suddenly flavorless lump of cornmeal in your mouth and place your fork down on the table.  If only she could give you that.  But you know it isn’t possible.  You know that the one thing you would give anything to have just might be the one thing you can never have again.

Rose catches your tension immediately, and you find her hand on yours.  Her thumb rubs soothing circles onto the back of your hand.  “Dirk, you will figure it out.  The little you is such a smart boy already at 2.  I can only imagine how intelligent you are now.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, though you don’t really register saying the word.  You more say it out of obligation, because you know you have to say something.

Your mother is quick to catch on, as usual. “Jake gave you something, did he not?  Something that broke?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, feeling the weight of the broken gun shards suddenly heavy in your pocket.  “Yeah he did.”

“May I see it?”  She asks.

Carefully, you retrieve all the pieces from your pocket and lay them out on the table.  Against the stark contrast of the wood, Jake’s gun looks like bright starlight.  The one shot that he gave you at defeating Lord English.  And you wasted it.

Rose observes the pieces critically, turning a few of them over on the table.  “What exactly is this device?  What does it do?”

“It has several names, but the most common ones are ‘gun’ or ‘firearm,’” you reply.  Your voice softens as you remember fondly, “Jake loved his ‘pistols.’  They are long-range weapons propelled by explosive force.  At least, typical ones are.  This one might be a little different.”

Rose doesn’t say anything during your explanation.  She opts to merely watch you as you speak, absorbing your words carefully.  Then, she turns her attention back to the fragments.  After a few seconds, she decides, “I can fix this.”

“You can?” you ask, stunned.  You kind of assumed that the gun was toast and that you would never have that chance to kill Jake again.  You kind of _hoped_ that was true.

But if your mother knows that, she doesn’t let on.  Instead, she carefully gathers the pieces together and almost as an afterthought asks, “would you like me to mend it?”

A few tense moments pass as you gaze into her lavender eyes through your shades.  Then, you nod stiffly.  “Yes.  Please.”

It’s what Jake would have wanted.  You have to do it.

Rose nods, placing all the pieces neatly in a handkerchief and tying it together.  “I will have this ready for you by tomorrow.  I trust that will be ok?”

“Of course,” you mumble out.  “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” she replies.  Though she smiles at you, it seems forced, and you can sense that she is not truly happy with the task.  She isn’t happy because she knows what it means.

You feel weirdly like a peeping Tom doing it, but you decide to dip into her thoughts.  Your mind resists a bit, like the protest of a stiff muscle after a day of heavy labor, but eventually your hearing opens to her mind.  Your mother’s voice calmly washes over you.

“ _—he is so sad.  My poor son.  I wish I could make him happy._ ”

“It is a bit rude, you know, to peek into other people’s minds,” Rose points out, a small coy smile on her lips.  She knows she caught you.

“Sorry,” you murmur, drawing your mental reach back.

“Worry not.  I am happy that Dave has managed to show you how to hone that skill,” she says.  Then, she presses her hand to her back and groans.  “Oh… any day now.  This child is coming—”

“Tomorrow,” you finish for her, a tiny smirk crossing your own lips.  “His birthday is the same as mine.”

“Truly?” she breaths in disbelief.

“Yeah, I know.  Somehow you manage to have two kids on the same day.  I think you win some sort of prize for that,” you murmur.

She gazes down fondly at her stomach, lightly rubbing the swollen lump with her fingertips.  Gently, she coos to it, “did you hear that, little one? I get to meet you tomorrow, Michael.”

You freeze, trying not to let your shock show.  Before Rose can look up and somehow magically see your surprise, you quickly rise from the table.  “Well better meet Dave outside.  Wouldn’t want to keep Dave waiting.  Nope.  Not Dave.”

Does your voice sound a little weird?  You think it kind of does for some reason, but you brush it off.

Outside, you find little Dirk climbing up Dave’s arm.  Your father’s eyes are on you.  Wordlessly, he taps his temple with the hand that isn’t being climbed by a small child.

It’s a signal to read his thoughts.  Sighing, you focus on him, plunging into his mind.

“ _Smooth,_ ” he thinks pointedly to you.  ” _I doubt she figured that one out.  Nope.  Not at all._ ”

Then, his lips twist into a tiny frown.  “ _Michael.  That would have been a nice name.  A bit overused but nice.  I wonder why she will decide to change it?_ ”  He glares at you.  ” _It better not be your fault._ ”

“ _Hey, his name is still Dave in my memories, so it’s not like she changes her mind.  Unless this is now an alternate reality, in which case—”_ You think back, your brain suddenly beginning to muse about the implications of time travel.

“ _Stop right there.  Not worth thinking about it,”_ Dave thinks back at you.  Then, he turns to little Dirk, holding up the arm that he’s climbing.

The little you laughs and slides to Dave’s shoulder.  You watch the scene in awe.  That carefree laughter.  You don’t remember ever being that happy.  Obviously, something is about to change soon.  Something that will scar you forever.

You set your jaw as your lips threaten to pull down into a frown.  Nope.  You aren’t thinking about that right now.  You’ll deal with whatever happens when it happens.

Dave turns to you and says, “that reminds me.  There is something I need to show you.” He heaves little Dirk onto his back and carries him back into the house.

Little Dirk pouts a bit when he’s dropped off by his blocks, but he quickly becomes absorbed in building the best tower again.

Then Dave beacons you to his bedroom.

You feel like you’re intruding on sacred space, entering your parents’ bedroom. But looking around, you realize it’s just like any other bedroom.  Simple furniture, plain walls.  Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Only one thing out of the ordinary, actually,” Dave says, walking to the corner of the room where he shoves away a decorative rug to reveal a trapdoor beneath.  He pulls it open and begins descending down a narrow set of wooden stairs.

The stairs lead deep down into the earth.  You follow him down.  After quite some time, your feet touch the stone floor of at the bottom of the stairs. You wait while Dave lights a torch, revealing a dingy pathway trailing into the dark ahead.

You’ve never been claustrophobic, and you haven’t been afraid of the dark since you were a very small child.  But something about this pathway instantly floods you with a sense of dread.  It’s so strong that you actually balk a bit, not wanting to follow Dave.

He tosses you a lopsided grin from up ahead. “What, really?  Come on. My son better not be the one fully grown incubus that’s scared of the dark.”

“He’s not,” you murmur, then shake your head.  “I’m not. It’s this place.  Something about it—”

Dave frowns, then he’s by your side in a flash of speed.  Gently, he touches your arm and says, “hey, it’s ok.  I built this myself.  Promise we are the scariest monsters down here.”

You remain doubtful but allow your father to gently pull you along.  Your father’s presence makes walking down the pathway easier, but you can’t shake the feeling that something about this pathway is immensely wrong.

Instead of building on your concern, you decide to distract yourself with observing the craftsmanship of the passageway.  The entire path is lined in stones, which interlock neatly to keep out the dirt and mud.  Even with the strength and speed of an incubus, you are certain it took Dave a long time to build this.

“A good month,” he admits, responding to your unspoken thoughts.  “But this pathway is not the cause.  We are almost there.”

Finally, you reach it.  The room at the end is like a small bachelor-pad.  Without the mini-fridge. 

The room is a decent size.  The size of Dave’s living room, you would estimate.  There is a bed, a small cabinet that you would guess contains food, and a stockpile of torches for lighting.  Suddenly, you know exactly what this room is intended for, and your body stills as a chill goes up your spine.

It’s a hideout shelter.  In case something terrible were to happen.

“Right you are,” Dave agrees.  “The Condesce does not waste time.  If she has warned us of an attack, that means it will literally be on our doorstep soon.”

“An attack?  But why?” you ask, feeling overwhelmed with this place for some reason.  You can’t pinpoint why, but this room makes you feel extremely uncomfortable.  It tugs at the corners of your memory, and for some reason you can’t quite place it.

“You may not have realized it, but there _is_ a war going on.  We are as of yet removed from the carnage and destruction, but that does not mean it does not exist,” Dave explains quietly.  “The death toll is steep on both sides, human and demon.”

“The war is headed this way,” you murmur, placing your father’s words together.  “Does that mean that Lord English is headed this way?”

“He is,” Dave responds quietly.  “I think you know what that means.”

You’re silent.  Dave is silent.  No sound but the occasional crackle of the torch reaches your ears this far below the ground, and the only light is from the gentle flicker of the torch light.

Eventually, he asks, “have you decided which side you are on?”

“The side of humanity and demonkind.  I fight for everyone,” you answer easily.  It’s what you’ve always done.  What Bro has always taught you to do.

“A worthy cause,” Dave admits.  He eyes you a bit harder than before, and his expression seems more tense as he asks, “now answer this.  Can you bear to be without your Jake?”

“I don’t fucking know.  Can’t you just pull that answer out of my head or something?” you snap back.

Dave stares at you silently, waiting patiently for you to do something.  But you’re not sure what he wants you to do.  Where does he get off just coming into your life and suddenly asking you these difficult things and being your father and holy shit are you having a teenage angst tantrum or what?

You calm your shit down.  And you stop.  And in the darkness of that disconcerting cellar room, with just you and your father, you realize the truth.

“The world can’t exist with two Lord Englishes, so does it matter?” you ask solemnly.

You feel your soul crack, a piece of it splintering off from the rest.  And something within you dies. 

Because up until now, you had thought that maybe it would be ok to just ignore things.  To let him go and let the problem fix itself.  Maybe Jake could break out of it somehow.  Maybe there was a chance that Lord English could just go away.

But you know that will never happen.  You love Jake, and you’ve been carefully observing him for several months now. You know he’s strong-willed and has been giving his all in this fight against Lord English.  If he is still in there, that is.  You know that Jake would never half-ass anything.  That he’s certainly been trying as hard as he can to break free.

But he hasn’t.  Lord English is still fueling the fires of this war, which means that Jake hasn’t come back to himself.

And he never will.

Because suddenly you realize it.  Jake _isn’t_ there anymore.  If he was, you’re certain he would have broken free.  He would have.  He _must_ have.

Jake’s gone.

Your adorable dorky boyfriend, who smiles with that fucking cute as hell bucktooth grin, who you count on 100% to have your back fighting the forces of evil, who plays games with you all night, who gave you his love, his mind, his _everything_.

Jake English is gone, and you are never getting him back.

How the fuck are you supposed to deal with this?  How the fuck do you force yourself to get over the loss of the one man you have ever loved with your entire heart?  Is that even possible?

But you can’t allow your own feelings to get in the way of this.  If you screw this up, then it’s not just your life that gets ruined.  It’s not even just your family.  It’s the whole world.  And for all you know, it might not even just be the world.  It could be the universe.  It could be Derse too.  And Prospit. And several other universes.

Like it or not, you only have one option.

“He has to die,” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper.

But Dave hears it.  He’s probably heard your whole line of miserable thoughts.  You’re aware of his arms coming around you, pulling you close.  You feel him feed you his sympathy, his compassion.  You vaguely wonder how he did that and you try to think about it but you can’t—you just can’t. 

He holds you while you cry.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Wake up** 

“Hey, rise and shine, Dirk.”

Is it really the morning already?  You barely remember the rest of yesterday.  Dave put you back to sleep shortly after you came out of that awful underground room.  Rose and little Dirk were nowhere in sight, and for that you were very glad.

Dave’s here now, rubbing your arm lightly and telling you to wake up.  “Today is it.  Are you ready?”

“No,” you grumble miserably.

“Better than yesterday?”  he asks.

“Yeah,” you reluctantly agree.  You’re not sure how, but somehow you _are_ ready for this.  Your resolve is set to kill and you can do it.  You can.

“Good,” Dave says.  “See you outside.”

He leaves you to your own thoughts.  Surprisingly, your head is extremely clear. After yesterday’s delightful revelation, there is little to be conflicted over anymore.  The tough decision is over.  Now all you’ll have to do is decide how to possibly pick up the pieces of your life after you kill him.

If you even can.

You check your shades for AR but find that he is still offline.  Reluctantly, you leave the room and start the day.

Little Dirk is on you like a magnet, clinging to your leg while simultaneously screaming and laughing, “It’s my BIRTHDAY!!!  DID YOU HEAR THAT??? MY BIRTHDAY!!!”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time,” you mutter, but you can’t help the smirk that rises to your lips.  You ruffle his hair fondly and bait him with the question, “oh man, I forgot.  How old are you again?”

“THREE!!!” He screams.  Then he detaches himself from you and runs into the kitchen, circling the table three times, then running off to do a bunch of other things exactly three times.

“He has so much energy, I never thought he would eat his breakfast,” Rose smiles, placing a plate of fried potatoes and ham on the table.

You sit down and dig in.  A second later, you hear something else hit the table.  Something heavy.

You look over to find the pristine silver metal gun that Jake gave you a few days ago.  It’s completely whole again.  Shockingly, there isn’t even a scratch on it.

For a moment, you marvel at the work before daring to touch it. “Rose, it’s—it’s perfect.  How did you do it?”

Rose winks at you.  “I have my ways.  Happy Birthday, Dirk.”

“Thank you,” you murmur softly, taking the weapon and turning it over in your hands a few times.  It really does look like new.

“There were a few bullets already pre-loaded in the chambers.  I took the liberty of keeping it loaded for you, but please, do use caution,” she says, glancing fondly down at her swollen belly.  “Soon there will be two children present.”

“Yes, there will,” you comment, trying your hardest to remember when Dave is born.  You can’t. 

The morning is calm and warm.  A soft airy breeze drifts in through the window and the only sounds in the house are those of little Dirk, screaming as he tears from room to room.  He runs into his room and runs back out with something that makes your heart leap up into your throat.

“Lil’ Cal!!! Lil’ Cal LOOK!!”  he shouts, a familiar looking puppet that’s as big as he is draped over his shoulder, dangling down his back as he runs.  “It’s my birthday today SEE???”

The puppet looks exactly the same as you remember.  Maybe his colors are a little brighter, not as faded as they are now.

Actually, you aren’t even really sure anymore.  You put Lil’ Cal away in a box a long time ago, and eventually that box disappeared.  You were so upset at yourself for losing him for a while, but eventually you got over it.

But seeing Lil’ Cal again, and how much the little you loves playing with him already, brings a smile to your face.  Before you leave, you’ll have to tell the little you never to put his treasured puppet away.

 “Dave and I worked on that puppet together for weeks,” Rose says, the smile huge on her lips as she watches her son run around with his newest favorite toy.  “Dirk has been glued to it all morning.”

“He’ll love it for a very long time,” you assure her.

She glances up at you in surprise, but then her expression settles back on a calm smile.  There’s a warmth in her eyes that tells you she’s extremely happy to hear that.

Suddenly, a loud booming sound echoes off in the distance.

You tense, funneling all of your energy into your ears, trying desperately to hear anything more.  The house is completely silent, and even the little you has stopped running and screaming.

A few seconds later, the sound echoes through the forest and in through the windows again, slightly louder than last time.

Dave suddenly throws open the front door, a grim expression on his face.  His eyes are hard-set as he turns to Rose and says, “it’s here.  Get into the shelter.  Take Dirk and do not leave until I come for you.”

Then, he turns to you.  “Come with me.  We do not have much time.”

Rose is on her feet, rushing to Dave’s side as quickly as she can.  She brushes a hand along his cheek, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Please, come back safely, my love.”

Dave nods several times more than necessary, but he makes no promises.  His voice is tense as he says, “I love you, my dear.  More than anything, I love you.”

The booming sound echoes through the house again, and little Dirk seems to have finally caught on that something is wrong.  He tugs on his father’s pant leg, dragging Lil’ Cal behind him as he looks up with worried eyes. “Daddy why are you sad?”

Dave doesn’t answer him.  Instead, he kneels down and sweeps the boy up in a hug.  “Dirk, I am so proud of you.  Do not ever forget that.  Grow up big and strong.  Protect the people that cannot protect themselves.”

“Daddy?” he asks quietly, far too solemnly for a little kid on his third birthday.  “Daddy are you coming back?”

“I love you, Dirk,” Dave says.  He takes a short shaky breath and hugs him tighter.  “Be good.  Be good to your mother, ok?”

“Ok,” little Dirk replies softly.

Then Dave is standing, and Rose is hugging him.  They whisper some words to each other, embracing tightly.

And then the moment is over.  Reluctantly, he lets her go.  Rose’s fingers cling around his for one extra second. They both look at their interlocked fingers, then back at each other.  There’s some silent understanding between them that you don’t suppose you will ever know about.

But it exists between them, and it’s real.  It’s just as real as your love for Jake.

When their fingers finally break away from each other, both turn immediately to business.  Rose quickly collects little Dirk and ushers him to the bedroom, where you know they will descend into the dark depths of the hidden cellar bedroom.

Dave is quick to usher you outside the door.  By now, you can smell the carnage in the air, as the blood of both humans and demons mixes in the air.  The scent of charred flesh combines with the natural smell of the forest in a foul blend that makes you frown. 

“This is your last chance to turn back,” Dave informs you grimly.

“And I won’t,” you assure him. You have to save this world.  You can’t let this destruction continue.

“I was hoping you would say that,” he replies.  “You have the weapon that can kill him right? Rose repaired it for you?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly.

“You know you’re the only one that can use it, right?” he asks.

You look at him in surprise.  You didn’t know that.

“I looked it over after Rose mended it.  It seems your boyfriend tailored it to you and you alone,” Dave explains.  When you take out the gleaming silver gun and eye it, he points out the intricate patterns on the gun.  “The runes he carved onto it must have taken him some time.  He must trust you quite a bit to give that to you.”

The thought hits you like a stab in the chest.  Jake made this for you.  He always intended for you to kill him.  You trail your thumb along the gleaming grooves that Jake painstakingly carved just for you.

Dave leans in closer to you.  “I’ll ask you again.  Can you do it?”

You nod stiffly.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I can.”

Your father eyes you in a peculiar way, as if he’s gauging something that you can’t see.  Eventually, he turns and leads the way to the village. “All right.  Then let us go.” 

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Kick some ass**

Yeah, that’s really not what you would call it.  By the time you and Dave reach the town, half of it is already on fire.  Lord English works quickly.  Speaking of the demon, he’s nowhere in sight, but you can _sense_ that he’s here.

The town is overrun with demons and humans, both fighting and creating piles of corpses.

“Such needless violence,” Dave growls lowly. 

“These people,” you murmur.  “We were reading their thoughts just two days ago. They’re normal people, with families and lives and–”

“I know these people even better than you.  I know some of these demons too,” Dave says, turning to you and abruptly cutting you off. “We will not get involved in this war, understand?  Our target is singular and clear.  Lord English.  Until we find him and kill him, pay no heed to anything else you see here.”

It is difficult, but you do.  You force that cold-hearted part of you to rise to the surface again. The same fraction of you that killed your friend Eridan twice. 

Sticking to the shadows, you both move silently and stealthily through the village.  You ignore the cries and pleas for help from the burning homes around you.  You don’t bat an eyelash as demons and humans fall around you, sometimes not even a foot away as you move through the disaster zone that is the village.

And suddenly, you see him.  Lord English.

The horrible green monster towers even taller than you last remember him.  His green robes are more frayed than before, billowing out around him like the grim reaper’s cloak.  He tears humans through the windows of their homes, crunching their bones as rips them apart and throws them to the ground. 

Even the demons that follow him even leave a large radius around him.  You wonder why until one winged demon flies just a bit too close. Lord English is quick to snatch him from the air by his wings, pinching them together and breaking them before crushing its body with a sickening snap. 

Then, Lord English’s jaw unhinges like that of a snake, a bright light protruding forth.  The wispy soul of the demon is pulled from its body, screaming and wailing as it swirls down into the green demon’s maw. 

If Her Imperious Condescension is correct, and you are inclined to believe she is, that’s one demon that will never find its way to Derse.  Unlike Vriska, Damara, Eridan and all the other demons you have slain, that poor demon will never return to any realm.  Lord English has consumed its soul for all eternity.

“How is your aim?”  Dave asks, shouting above the sound of the raging war.  “Can you hit him from here?”

“Good enough, but no.  I can’t from here,” you respond.  Lord English is too far away.  You have no doubt that Jake would be able to nail Lord English this far away, but there is no way you can.  You haven’t had extensive training with firearms like he has.  You’re far more fond of your blade.  “If I can get close enough, it won’t matter.”

“A Strider’s weakness,” Dave says, shaking his head.  “We have to get in close for the kill.  So close that our very hearts are jeopardized.  As it is true in our fighting style, it is also true in love.”

You understand his metaphors all too well.  Still, you snort and reply, “if you’re trying to give me a birds and bees talk, you’re a few hundred years too late.”

“Right.  _Bro_ carries the torch from here, yes?” Dave asks.  You’re really not surprised he read all of that in your thoughts, but somehow his words strike you as odd.  Maybe it’s the way he’s saying it.  Maybe it’s the knowing look in his eyes, the tiny Strider smirk.  “Thank him for me, will you?  I owe him the lives of my sons.”

Something else about that strikes you as odd, but you don’t really have time to think about it.  There’s a war going on, and you can’t afford to spend too much time dwelling on your father’s mannerisms. 

“I will,” you reply.  You really hope you see Bro again soon.  He had to have bested the Midnight Crew.  You hope that when you get back to your own time he’ll be waiting for you.  And you can tell him all about this time in your past while he makes you drink some nasty blood, but you won’t care.  It’ll be good just to talk to him again.

For some reason, you’re really starting to miss that fucker.

Reluctantly, Dave turns his gaze back to the demon rampaging in the distance.  “We should not waste any more time.”

“Agreed,” you murmur, focusing your attention back on Lord English.  “Lord English is powerful but he’s slow.  If I can get in close enough, I can take him down.”

“Then I will get you close enough,” Dave says grimly.  “I will distract him so that you can slip in and kill him before he notices you.”

You’re really going to do it.  You’re going to kill Jake.

There’s no more time for regrets.  You decided this yesterday.  You’re going through with this because Jake’s not there anymore. 

“Ok,” you murmur quietly, agreeing to his plan. You draw the shining silver gun from your pocket.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

Dave flashes you a trademark Strider grin. “Try to keep up.” 

In a burst of speed, Dave flash-steps ahead.  He takes a different path to the demon, circling around to approach him from another angle so that Lord English won’t see you coming.  He moves freely like the wind, leaping and circling around the demons and humans fighting through the streets.

You’re not quite as graceful as him, but you also manage to make it to Lord English unscathed.  The homes are all on fire in this part of the village, so you don’t have the luxury of much cover.  Ashes fly in front of your face, and the heat is sweltering, pulsing in visible waves around you.  You do your best to ignore the distractions of battle as you press forward. 

Finally, you make it close enough that you could shoot and be confident that you would not miss.  You flatten your back against the wall of a not fully burned building, steadying your aim as you gaze intently at the demon.

Lord English isn’t at the right angle. Jake specified that he had to be shot through the heart for this to work.  You don’t want to waste your chance and miss.

So, you watch as Dave begins his assault on Lord English.  The flashing metal of his katana collides with reptilian green skin and sharp gleaming claws.  Dave is brilliant. Your father is easily one of the best fighters you have ever seen. He easily evades Lord English’s attacks, and he strikes many blows that should be critical hits on him.

Except that they aren’t.  Dave’s attacks don’t even appear to be piercing the demon’s skin.  But they are doing a fantastic job of distracting him.

Lord English turns several times, twisting and contorting his body in unusual ways that you think shouldn’t be possible.  Repeatedly, he swipes at Dave, but he is never quick enough to catch your father.

Several times, you could have had a shot.  If you were certain enough of your aim and fast enough.  But you aren’t. Guns just aren’t your thing.

“Damn it Jake, this isn’t fair,” you mutter under your breath.  “Why can’t _you_ be the one with the gun?”

You thought you were saying it quietly.  You didn’t expect anyone to hear you.

But for some reason, a second later, the monster turns his terrifying multicolored gaze to you.

And you hear it.

_Dirk…!_

You freeze.

“Jake?” you whisper in disbelief, your voice strained.  It was Jake’s voice coming from behind those demonic eyes.  You’re positive of it.  And that means one terrible truth.  For once in your life, you were wrong.  You were wrong about the very worst thing possible.

Jake’s not dead.

“Oh no.  No no no no no no—”  You murmur, your eyes widening behind your shades as you struggle to keep the gun aimed at Lord English.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fucking fair!  Jake’s alive and you have to kill him and—

And maybe you’re wrong. Yes. Maybe just maybe you are wrong about being wrong and Jake isn’t really in there and you can have absolutely no reservations about blowing this demon away and fucking _damn it, focus Dirk_!

Determinedly, you look into Lord English’s multicolored gaze and dip into his mind.

**_DIRK STRIDER. DON’T YOU LOVE. WATCHING YOUR WORLD BURN?_ **

Lord English’s voice is like broken glass in your mind.  The very sound of it is nauseating.  But mixed with it, layered underneath it, is another voice.  Much milder.  Gentler.  One that you have come to love with your entire soul.

_Dirk… oh no… Dirk please don’t hesitate again!  Do it. Kill me!  End this monster’s tyranny!_

Jake.

You feel your stomach in your throat.  He’s asking you to kill him, but how can you possibly do that?  How can you do that now that you know he’s _alive_?  You can hear his fucking voice in your head and god fucking _damn it_ how is this even fair?

“It’s not fair.  Pull yourself together, Dirk!” Dave’s voice rises above the sounds of the battle around you, but you’re frozen in place.

Lord English is focusing on you now. He isn’t even looking at Dave, who continues to try and fail to pierce the demon’s skin.  Somehow amiss all this, you manage to think that Lord English wasn’t this powerful before?  In Bro’s stories Lord English could be defeated.  He wasn’t invincible by any means, so why does it seem so impossible now?

_Dirk please… please hurry!  I don’t want to see you die, Dirk.  Please don’t make me watch you die.  Kill me.  Kill me. **KILL ME!!!**_

You cock the hammer of the gun and aim for Lord English’s heart.

And again.

The world slows down around you.

The ashes from the burning buildings drift past your vision.  Lord English slowly makes his way to you, a wicked grin on his face.  Even the color of his eyes seems to shift slower, lingering on blue, red, green—

You swear for a minute you see Jake’s eyes.  And you think of Jake, the one love of your life, trapped inside that horrible monster.

Jake

_Jake_

**_Jake_ **

And despite your resolve yesterday and today, despite everything you have ever worked for, despite the fate of the world and the universe and ALL the universes—

You can’t kill him.

And all you can do is watch as Lord English comes closer. 

And closer. 

 _And_ _closer._  

Until you can feel the dark energy pulsating out of him.  See the individual scales of his body.  Smell the acrid scent of pure evil.  And hear his voice like poison in your skull.

**_DIE DIRK STRIDER.  DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!_ **

And Jake.

_Why aren’t you killing me Dirk?  Why—why aren’t you doing it?  Oh god Dirk, I’m sorry for putting you in this position. I should never have done that. I’m so sorry.  I love you._

“Love you too, Jake,” you say outloud.  Loud enough for it to reach those horrible green ears.  Loud enough for Jake to hear you.

Lord English reaches for you, but this time you know he won’t go for your gun first.  His claws are aimed straight for your heart.

You laugh at the horrible irony of it.  Lord English can rip out your heart and after that he can kill you and eat your soul, but it won’t matter.  The one you gave your heart to is gone, trapped forever.  And without him, your life has no meaning.

Your end is coming, and somehow, you don’t mind.  Yes, you could stop it, but you don’t.  You feel the sharpness of the monster’s claws rip through your shirt and pierce the soft flesh your skin.

And suddenly, he falls to the right.

What?

A bright flash of red follows the monster down, and you catch a glimpse of your father, tackling him to the ground, his bright red cape flowing behind him.  He’s wearing a fucking cape? You were so caught up with everything that you didn’t even realize that.

And what are you doing thinking about a fucking cape right now?  Shouldn’t your mind be on other things?  Like Jake?  Lord English?  Dave?

Lord English lands on the ground with a loud thud, his massive body sending dust and debris flying into the air.  Dave is only on him for a couple seconds, long enough to get him away from you.

But it’s a couple seconds too long.

Lord English seizes the opportunity.  You can feel his wicked glee as he snatches Dave in between his claws.  Your father’s katana goes flying out of his hands and lands in the dirt by your feet.

“DAD!!!” You scream, because you know what’s been put into motion. You know what’s happening and yes, somehow you are certain that Lord English is the reason your father died.

Dave looks back at you, and for a moment, your eyes lock with his.  It’s all you need to sense his apprehension and his fear.  But you also sense his stoic resolve.  The overwhelming sense of pride he has just looking at you.  You don’t hesitate to plunge into his thoughts.

“ _Heh, looks like this is it,”_ Dave thinks at you, his eyes unblinking, not wanting to look away.  Your thought conversation is rapid, much quicker than if you had to say everything out loud.

“ _I couldn’t kill him. I couldn’t fucking kill him! I’m so sorry—”_ you think back quickly. “ _And because I couldn’t kill him, you’re going to—”_

“ _Do not be sorry. Dirk, nothing could make me any more proud of you than I already am.  I am so glad that I had a chance to see the man my son will grow up to be,”_ he thinks at you. _“Take my katana.  Consider it a birthday gift_.”

You glance down at the katana then quickly back up at him.

“ _Yep, that’s the one. I hope it serves you well,_ ” he thinks. Then, you hear him audibly groan.  Lord English is squeezing him, and you’re certain you heard a few unnatural cracks of his bones.  “ _Tell Rose—I am sorry I could not be there to see the birth of our second son._ ”

“ _I will,_ ” you think back, wondering just how you’re going to get out of this mess.

“ _You will get out of this mess because you are going to run.  RUN, DIRK!!!_ ”  Dave thinks at you one final time.

With one last loud snap, Dave’s body goes limp.  Lord English unhinges his jaw.

You don’t watch as your father’s soul flies from his body and down the beast’s throat.  You’ve failed. You’ve failed and now the whole universe is fucked up but you don’t know what you’re going to do about it.

You snatch up your father’s katana and flashstep away.


	17. Bro

**Dirk == > Be a fucking useless piece of shit** 

You flashstep away, leaving the village, the war, and Lord English behind you.  As you run through the trees back toward your home, your mind is a complete wreck.  Thoughts are flying in every direction and you think you’ve never been this disorganized.  Even when you were starving out in the desert with Jake, everything seemed to make more sense than this.

Because you cannot comprehend that you just watched your father die. That he was _alive_ and _completely well_ an hour ago.  And now he is just another part of the collective of souls trapped in Lord English’s body, never to return.

You aren’t even sure what you’re doing right now, but you have to make sure that the rest of your family is ok.  You wouldn’t be able to bear it knowing that you had failed twice in one day.

When you reach your home, you sense the tense atmosphere immediately.  You rush into the bedroom and down into the cellar room, following the waning light of a flickering torch ahead.  You hear Rose’s screams and you smell blood.

You panic, flashstepping as quickly as you can to the room.  You almost trip over little Dirk, who is sitting against the wall by the entrance clutching Lil’ Cal to him.  Rose is laying in the bed.

A sense of relief washes over you, followed immediately by worry when you realize why Rose was screaming.  She’s giving birth.

And you know jack shit about the birthing process.

But like hell if you’re going to let your mother do this all on her own.  It’s your fault that your father isn’t here to help her like he undoubtedly was last time.

You’re by her side instantly, on your knees by the bedside.  Quickly, you snatch her hand in yours and frantically murmur, “MOM! Mom I’m here. Tell me you’re ok.  Oh fuck, please tell me you’re ok!”

Rose’s breaths are rapid and shallow.  Her expression is filled with pain when she looks at you and says, “Dirk, sweetie, I am fine.”

“You’re not fine. Fuck that. Tell me the truth!” you say, your voice sounding on edge, desperate.  You can’t say why, but more than _anything_ you want your mother to be ok right now. You just want her to be alive and completely ok.

“I have—been a little better,” she admits, her face again contorting with discomfort.  “But I am fine.”

“No.  No don’t fucking lie to me. I’m an incubus remember? I can feel your pain, I can fucking feel—” you ramble on for a few seconds before you realize something.

Yes.  _You_ _are_ an incubus.  _You_ _can_ feel Rose’s pain.

But so can the little you.  The small child that’s sitting balled up against the wall, clinging to Lil’ Cal as tightly as he can.

It ticks at the corners of your memory like the swinging pendulum of a grandfather clock.  Something from the past that has almost resurfaced.  Something is still repressing it, but you are starting to remember why you dread this room so much.

“Now do you understand?” Rose asks softly.  Her eyebrows twist in agony, and she clutches the bedsheet and your hand tightly.  A soft cry escapes her lips, and you know that being in labor is far more excruciating than she is letting on.  A minute or so later, her breathing calms down again, her pain lessens a bit, and she looks at you.  “Where is Dave?”

Your voice catches in your throat.  You don’t utter a single word before you feel it. 

An overwhelming sense of grief hits you, pouring out of Rose’s broken heart.  She doesn’t say a word, but you see the careful mask on your mother’s face break.  Her lips quirk down as her breathing constricts.  She looks at you with the saddest violet eyes as tears slowly begin to stream down her ivory cheeks.

“Excuse me,” she says in a shaky voice, withdrawing her hand from your own.  Covering her face in both of her hands, your mother sobs.

But fate, cruel mistress that it is, reminds you both that she is still in labor.  And it is barely a minute before you feel the sharp angry jabs of another wave of her contractions.  Rose doesn’t hold back the scream of agony this time, as she lets out her anger and sorrow at the world along with the torture of childbirth.

You feel so helpless kneeling at her bedside.  Again, you insist, “what do I do?”

“The contractions are coming more frequently now.  It will not be long before he is born,” Rose says, her voice hoarse from her screaming.  She indicates between her legs with a nod of her head.  “When he comes, help guide him free.”

Any other day, you would have positively retched at the thought of seeing your mother’s womanly parts.  Much less helping her deliver a child from them.  But in the heat of this moment, you know that this child’s birth is everything.  You can’t say how, but you _know_ that it is the only thing keeping Rose going right now.

So you skirt around to the foot of the bed, where Rose has her knees raised and her legs parted.  The blood is everywhere.  You can smell it strong in the air, and in the dim flickering torchlight, you can see that it has spilled over a large part of the bed.

“So much blood,” you murmur, your eyes widening in surprise. You glance up at Rose and ask, “is there supposed to be _this much blood_?”

Rose swallows, and in a shaky voice she replies, “there is always some, yes. But carrying and birthing an incubus has its challenges.  I am only human, after all.”

A small sound from behind you makes you glance back to find little Dirk sitting against the wall with his legs drawn tightly up against him.  He’s clutching his hands to his ears, trying to block out the feeling of Rose’s misery.  You can tell he doesn’t want to let Lil’ Cal go.  The puppet is sandwiched in the crook of his elbow awkwardly, held in place by his head and his arm. 

Suddenly, you realize that you can’t leave him like this.  Quickly, you flashstep over to the little you and kneel in front of him.  “Hey.”

He doesn’t look up. Little Dirk keeps his gaze trained to the ground, his hands pressed so tightly to his head that you can see the whitening of his knuckles and the tips of his fingers.

“Hey, lil’ man, look at me,” you insist.  Another cry from Rose alerts you that you don’t have much time, and you reach forward, grabbing little Dirk’s chin and forcing his head up.

His eyes are filled with tears.  His lower lip quivers continuously, like the steady fluttering of a butterfly’s wings.  “Momma—and daddy—” he says, his voice degrading into an unhappy wail of a small child who has far too many feelings and thoughts and far too few words.

“Look at me,” you say to him, slowly drawing your shades down so that you can lock your tangerine gaze with his.  When his eyes snap alertly to yours, you do it.

**_Mine.  Dirk, you’re mine._ **

The effect is instantaneous.  His lips stop quaking, his wails cease, and his face becomes a beautifully expressionless mask.  His hands drop down from his ears into his lap.  Lil’ Cal falls to the ground.

“It’s all gonna be ok,” you tell him, influencing him with a sense of calm. Slowly, you pick Lil’ Cal back up and place the puppet back in the boy’s arms.  “Lil’ Cal’s gonna protect you, ok?  He’ll make sure your momma’s ok.  That everything is ok.”

“Ok,” little Dirk mimics back to you, in a voice that sounds far too much like your own for your comfort.  He holds Lil’ Cal tighter to him.

“Good.  Good, now I’ve gotta take care of your momma while your lil’ bro’s bein’ born, ok?  But you sit right there an’ everythin’ll be just fine,” you reassure him.  You’ve slipped back into your dreaded southern, but you don’t care.  Who’s here to make fun of you now?  Besides, there are far more important matters to attend to.

Like your mother, who is screaming bloody murder across the room.  You hasten to her side again before she shoos you back down to the foot of the bed.  When you dare to look between her legs you gasp.  “Somethin’ white’s comin’ out.  Is that—is that the _head?_ ”

“Better the head than the foot,” she responds weakly. Rose takes a few deep breaths.  Then, she grits her teeth together and bears down, pushing with all of her strength.

The white circle grows larger and larger until what looks like an alien lifeform begins to slowly ooze from her body.  For a few moments, you gape at it, completely at a loss.

“Dirk!” Your mother’s voice is laced with warning, and you quickly remember that you have a task to do.

Gingerly you hold your hands out and grasp the baby’s head.  With a few more pushes, the head is fully out of her body.  The rest of the baby soon follows.  You gently guide your baby brother from your mother’s body and hold the fragile infant in your hands.

You never knew Dave was this small.  You swear that newborn babies aren’t supposed to be _this_ small.  You eye the umbilical cord, that connects the infant’s abdomen to his mother, and you really don’t know what to do. 

And he’s not crying.  He’s not fucking crying what the fuck do you do???

“There is a blade—” Rose says, her voice shallow and her breathing ragged. She speaks between deep breaths. “—on the dresser.  I—sterilized it earlier.  Use it—to cut the cord.  There is also—string.  First—tie it off.”

You flashstep to the dresser even though you probably don’t need to.  You find the blade and string, and flashstep back.  Carefully, you tie a knot with the string near the baby’s abdomen, and then you cleanly cut the cord.  One task down.

But the baby still isn’t crying.

Worried beyond belief, you pick the infant up—

—and the tiny cries of your baby brother ring loudly through the air.

Relief floods your system.  You’re certain you’re smiling like a fool, but you don’t care.  Your baby brother is ok, and that’s all that matters.

Rose is smiling widely now too, and when she reaches for him, you carefully place the baby in her arms.  Softly, she cooes to him, “hello there, little one.”

Gently, she wipes the remainder of the blood and mucus from the infant’s body with a soft cloth.  By the time she’s finished, the baby is already quieting his cries.  As she holds him to her closely and shushes him softly, his cries recede into tiny little gurgles.

She places a kiss atop the child’s head and murmurs, “I am so very _very_ happy to meet you, my little Dave.”

And suddenly it all comes full circle.  The reason she changed her mind on the baby’s name hits you like a charging rhino.  And just like that, the events earlier in the day come racing back to you.

But you aren’t allowed to dwell on it for long.  Rose looks at you pointedly and says, “you put Dirk under your influence.  I can tell.  Remove it.”

So you do.  Kneeling in front of him again, you catch his gaze in your own and give him back to himself.

**_Yours. Be you, Dirk._ **

When he comes to and begins blinking fearfully at you, you do the first thing that comes to mind. You pull him into a tight hug.  And you try to give him positive feelings of happiness and comfort despite not having him under your influence.  “Hey, it’s ok, lil’ man,” you murmur to him. 

He clings to you tightly but doesn’t say anything back.

“Your lil’ bro’s here,” you try again to reassure him.  “Wanna go meet him?”

One benefit of dealing with a younger version of you is knowing yourself.  Knowing that your own curiosity will overcome even the most frightening of odds feels a little bit like cheating.  But it works like a charm.

Slowly, little Dirk peeks out from behind you at his mother.  “My lil’ bro?” he repeats inquisitively.

“Yep,” you nod back with a smile, hefting him up into your arms and carrying him over to the bed.  You place him next to Rose on a non-bloody part of the bed, where he is quick to peek over at his new baby brother.

“What is wrong with him?” He asks Rose, poking gingerly at Dave’s head.  “His eyes are closed.”

Rose laughs, gently guiding little Dirk’s curious finger away from the baby’s face.  “Do not worry. He will open his eyes soon,” she assures him.

Little Dirk is content to snuggle up next to his mother while she feeds her baby.  It’s an oddly comforting sight.  But, as your eyes trail away from them back to the foot of the bed, you realize that your work is not done.

For the first time, you find that there is a lot of cleanup to do after a birth.  The bed is ruined, and there is nothing you can do about that.  Rose instructs you on how to deal with some particularly messy details of the after-birthing process that you would have rather never known about.

After it is all done, you sense that everyone has reached their emotional limit.  Little Dirk has already drifted off to sleep, as has the infant Dave.  Rose is not far behind and you are feeling weary yourself, though you somehow doubt that you will be able to sleep.

You pick a corner of the room and start to lay down on the floor.  But Rose has other ideas.

“Come here,” she says, patting the bed next to the little you.  “There is enough room for us all on this bed.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you say.  You begin to confabulate several reasons it’s a terrible idea, but before you can voice any of them, Rose interrupts you.

“Dirk,” she says, in a very pointed way.  “I will not take no for an answer.”

And you know she means it.  Reluctantly, you sigh and walk over, settling onto the edge of the bed.  You are surprised to feel Rose’s slender fingers in your hair, running through your messy battle-worn strands.  “I am so happy to be here, with my sons,” she murmurs.

Your mother gently rakes her fingers across your scalp in a way that is extremely soothing.  You didn’t think it was possible, but you start to feel the stressors of the day wearing away.  You’re certain that she stopped stroking your hair, but you couldn’t say when.

In the comfort of the bed in that terrible cellar room, you leave the nightmares of the day behind and drift into a deep slumber. 

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Freak the fuck out**

That is exactly what you do when you wake up again and find yourself in that horrifying cellar room.  Your eyes snap open, and even though you don’t need to breathe, you’re hyperventilating.  Your body is covered in a cold sweat and your eyes wildly snap from corner to corner around the room.

“Dirk, honey, Dirk, it is ok.”

You don’t want to believe the words, but soon you feel slender fingers calmly working through your hair again.  The sensation is soothing, and slowly, you start to calm down.

Eventually, you realize that you’re still lying in the bed with your family.  Rose is sitting up now, propped up with a couple pillows behind her back.  She’s holding a swaddled infant Dave while he feeds.  The little you is still sleeping curled up in the bed beside you.

When you feel tranquil enough, you slowly sit up and look around.  Down here in the dark, you have no sense of time, and you aren’t sure how long you were sleeping.  But you do sense something else.  Something terrifying is not far away.

“It is coming,” Rose murmurs softly, gently shifting the baby in her arms.  “We were hidden down here, but I have lost too much blood.  They will sense it, and they will come.”

You know what Rose is talking about.  The war.  The demons.

She looks at you, her eyes expressionless as she says, “and with it, _he_ will come.  Lord English will kill us all.”

It sounds extremely morbid coming from your mother, but somehow you know she’s right.  If Lord English finds you all down here, there will be nothing stopping him from killing all of you.  And you’ll have nowhere to run.

You want to apologize to her.  To tell her you’re sorry, that you’ll go and kill Lord English.  But you’ve already failed twice.  You aren’t going to pretend that you’ll be able to do it this time.

Instead, you busy yourself with getting up from the bed, lighting a few more torches, and replacing the ones on the walls that have begun to wane after hours of use.  You search through the small cupboard and find a few sacks of dried fruits and vegetables along with some dried and salted cutlets of meat.  There are also a few canisters of fresh water.  You bring some of these to Rose, encouraging her to eat and drink.

She does, though not as much as you think she really should.  Instead, she wakes the little you and offers him some food and drink.  She also turns to you and murmurs, “you should eat too.  More than any of us, you will need your strength.”

As you chew into some dried apple slices, you grow increasingly uneasy with the silence.  The little you is barely making any sound, which is so unusual for him.  The baby isn’t crying, and Rose hasn’t offered up any more conversation.

What you _can_ hear are the sounds of battle from far away, growing closer by the minute. You can feel the tension and the war in the air, and though you aren’t certain just how far away it is, you know that it is coming closer. It will not miss your home, and as Rose has said, with the scent of blood in the cellar room, they _will_ find you.

“Do you know how to hold a baby?” Rose asks you suddenly.

“Sorta?” you respond uneasily.  Babies have never really been your thing.

She smiles at you and motions you over.  You sit by her side.  Even though you sort of held Dave yesterday after he was born, you balk a little bit when she shifts the swaddled infant into your arms.

“That is right,” she says encouragingly.  “Make certain you support his head until he is old enough to do it himself.  Do not let Dirk poke any of the soft spots on his head.”

You glance over at the little you, who is already grinning a little mischievously as he eats a dried apricot.  “You hear that?  No pranks until he’s older.  Then you can shower him with all the smuppets you want.”

“Smuppets?” little Dirk asks, looking at you curiously.

“Little toys.  Nevermind, you’ll figure it out when you’re older,” you assure him.

Rose watches you gently and says, “if he starts to cry, you can rock him, or bounce him very gently in your arms.”

“Ok,” you agree quietly, looking down at the tranquil face of your baby brother.  You’re struck again by how small he is.  His little face is reddened and looks a bit squished, but you still recognize him as your little bro.  His soft pale hair, the shape of his nose. You’d bet anything that when he opens his tiny eyes to the world, they will be the same shade of red that you have come to know uniquely as Dave’s.

“Do not give him cow milk until he is a year old,” she says softly, reaching over to lightly rub the baby’s feather-soft wisps of hair.  “Since he cannot eat solid food yet, you must feed him another way.”

“Another way?” you ask, though you have a feeling you know what she is talking about.

“Dave is an incubus, like you,” Rose explains.  Slowly, carefully, she rises from the bed and stands on trembling bare feet, marred with dried blood.  Soundlessly, she walks over to the dresser and picks up her wand.  “You will need to feed them both your blood.  Dirk will not need it as often, but Dave will require it every day, several times, until he is old enough.”

“My blood?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you look at Dave.  You always wondered why Bro fed you blood every now and then.  You thought it was some sadistic pleasure of his, watching you and Dave suffer through drinking it.  But was there another reason?  “How long will he need blood?”

“Forever,” Rose says, eyeing you strangely.  “Do you not still consume blood? I thought you would have known this by now.”

The image of Bro, holding out a plastic megagulp cup to you comes immediately to mind.  He stands there with that cocky grin, shoving the cup into your hands.  “ _It’ll make you stronger_ ,” he always said.

He never mentioned that you needed it to survive.  And suddenly, it makes sense.  Why Jake was so obsessed with what you ate when he first moved in with you. 

Jake knew. He always fucking knew.  And now that you know just how long he’s been alive, you aren’t surprised.  Jake probably knows a lot more than he ever lets on.

Someday, if you ever manage to sort this whole mess out, you will ask him about it.  You will have a chat for a few months and find out everything your fucking enigmatic boyfriend knows.

“You will have to feed him your affection as well,” Rose continues, picking up a torch and walking across the room.

Suddenly, you realize why she is telling you these things.  You look up at her and murmur, “no.”

Rose purses her lips.  She knows what you are truly saying “no” to.  “It is the only way,” she replies solemnly.

“No, no!!!” you say, your voice raising loud enough to wake Dave, who shifts and wails in protest.  You stand up from the bed and start walking toward her.  “I can’t let you do this!  I can’t let you go!”

Rose smiles at you sadly, “you have to.  The demons are already at the door.  Can you hear them?”

You can.  The growling and hissing and scratching of the lesser demons reach your ears now that you are listening for them.  You know that they will only be followed by more powerful ones soon.  And then, the worst of them all.

“I placed wards on all the doors and windows earlier so that none but us could enter.  But it will only be a matter of time before they find their way inside,” Rose says solemnly.

Little Dirk peeks out from behind you and asks, “Momma, what are you saying?”

“Dirk, come here sweetie,” she says, kneeling down.  When the little you runs over to her, she wraps her arms tightly around him.  “Baby, I love you. I love you and am so proud of you.  Do not ever forget that.”

Rose glances up at you and repeats, “do not forget that.”

“Momma why are you saying this?  Why are you so sad?” little Dirk asks, clinging to her tightly.

“You are such a smart and strong boy.  Momma might not see you for a very long time,” Rose says to him gently, calmly.  “Do not ever be afraid to do what you believe is right.  You have a good heart, Dirk.  Promise me that you will always follow your heart.”

The little you seems to be catching on slowly to what is happening.  Tears begin to pour from his eyes and his fists ball tightly into Rose’s shirt.  “No momma, do not leave me!”

“I have to, sweetie, I have to go,” she whispers, then kisses the side of his head softly.  “Now promise me, Dirk.  Promise me you will follow your heart.”

The little you is trembling now, and you hear sniffles in between his words. “I—I promise.”

“Good boy,” she says, hugging him tightly to her once more before letting go.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, momma,” little Dirk wails back, his voice disintegrating into sobs of sadness.

“Mom—” you find yourself at a loss for words.  You hadn’t realized it, but you had been slowly walking over to her until you stood next to her. You feel just as distraught as the little you inside, but centuries of Strider stoicism have taught you to keep your shit together. “Don’t go.  We’ll figure this out. We’ll—”

Rose smiles sadly at you and leans over, circling her arms around you gently.  “I love you, Dirk. I am thankful that I had the chance to meet you, and I regret that our time together was so short.”

She lets go and leans over, placing a gentle kiss on Dave’s forehead.  “Goodbye, Dave.  I wish the best for you. I hope that you and John will grow old together and always have the happiness that you share for each other.”

Dave makes a tiny sound, and for the first time, he opens his eyes.  In the darkness lit by the soft torchlight, he blinks at Rose with the vivid wine-red eyes you remember.

Rose smiles brightly, “red, just like your father.  Oh Dave, I am so happy I had the chance to look into your eyes this once.”

She stands back up and regards you with a small smile.  “Please take good care of them.  And do not ever forget that you are loved.  Goodbye, Dirk.”

You don’t say anything.  You’re stuck in place, holding onto the infant Dave as your mother walks down the long stone hallway.  You’re aware of the little you clinging to your pant leg and sobbing profusely as she ascends up the wooden staircase and disappears.

Shortly after, you hear the sounds of battle above.  Magical explosions and the screams of demons fill the air.  Rose’s presence is strong, like a powerful beacon.  You know that she is fiercely fighting.  And she is winning.

First you hear the cries of lesser demons as they fall, and then the distinctive shrill screeches of more advanced demons.  Rose’s energy is fantastic, and you can imagine her above, wielding her wand like a gladiator against a hoard of thousands.

You don’t know how much time passes. 

The fighting seems to last forever.

And finally, you feel it.  The darkest, most foul evil presence imaginable.  You know who is outside your house now.

Lord English.  The same monster that killed your father is now going to claim your mother.

Slowly, you turn your back to the wall and slide down to the floor.  You can’t take this.  You can’t handle it. You can’t.

Rose’s energy brightens like a supernova star, and you know that she is giving everything she has to this fight.  You feel it as Lord English’s dark energy lashes out.  The ground above you rumbles and you feel the shockwave as several of the walls in the home above you break and collapse. 

And suddenly, Rose’s energy begins to wane.  It grows smaller and smaller until, like the dying light of a candle that’s reached the bottom of its wick, it extinguishes.

You know that your mother is gone.

And almost as quickly as he arrived, Lord English leaves.  You feel his presence recede from the home, satisfied with the outcome.  The screeches and wails of the demons that follow him also grow quieter.

The sound of war fades until you are left with silence.

Slowly you become aware of little Dirk, who is quaking beside you, clinging to your arm and to Lil’ Cal with his face buried in your shirt.  And Dave, who has somehow fallen asleep.

And suddenly, it hits you like a shooting star falling from the sky above.  Suddenly you remember.

You remember being down here, in this horrible cellar.  You remember your mother’s face, her gentle words to you.  You remember watching her leave and knowing you would never see her again.

And you remember something that no child should ever remember on his third birthday.

You remember feeling your mother die.

And the emptiness that follows.  And the sorrow that losing her places forever in your heart.

But you also remember that your savior comes too.

That Bro finds you now, and that he makes everything better.

So you wait and hold little Dirk tightly.  Bro will come.  He’ll make it all better.

He’ll make it all better.

But the minutes tick by, and you feel the swinging pendulum of the metaphorical grandfather clock of your life.  The passage of time becomes a burden and you begin to doubt yourself.

But you know that Bro will come for you.  You remember him saving you. 

Bro was always there for you.

Bro was always there.

_Bro was always there._

Wasn’t he?

 **_Wasn’t_ ** _he?_

As the silence fills your ears, something horrible suddenly slides into place.  Like the missing piece of the puzzle of your life, it suddenly clicks.

The reason Bro was acting so strangely before you left on April the 5th to fight zombies at the Old Plaza Mall.  The reason your parents never asked about Bro.  The reason you never saw him around in the past.  The reason your father sounded so peculiar when he mentioned Bro earlier today.  The reason Bro is the same height as you, has the same color eyes as you, walks like you, talks like you, and likes _My Fucking Little Pony_ just like you. 

The reason he probably _loves Jake_.  Just like you.

“ _You’re a Strider.  We look out for each other.  I’m giving you a partner—_ ”

Oh fuck.

“ _Heh, you do know me better than anyone._ ”

Oh fuck _fuck **fuck**_.

“ _Striders stick together._ ”

You shut your eyes, take a deep breath, hold it in, and slowly let it out.  In a moment, you’ll be ready for this.

The pendulum swings.

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick._

_Tock._

And you open your eyes.

Slowly, you turn to Dirk and gently detach him from your arm.  “Hey lil’ man, look at me.”

Dirk looks up at you, his nose and cheeks puffy and red from crying.  He doesn’t say anything as you slowly remove your shades and calmly look into his eyes.

“I never told you who I was, did I?”  Gently, you rest a hand on his shoulder and place just a _hint_ of influence on him.

Slowly, Dirk shakes his head.

“I’m Bro.  I’m your older brother,” you tell him softly. 

You reach into his fragile soul and place the suggestion deep into his mind, where he will never think to doubt it.  Where it will live until this exact moment when he places it into himself in the future.  “I know things look like they suck right now.  And you know what?  They do. This is one of the lowest fucking points in your life.  But I’m gonna make sure that all of this turns out ok.”

“Bro?” he murmurs softly.

“That’s right,” you agree, ruffling his hair and giving him your best Strider smirk.  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.  But you’re gonna have to learn a thing or two about being a Strider.”

He watches as you gently wipe the tears off his cheeks.

“First, Striders don’t cry.  We’re too cool for that shit,” you say.  Then, you pull him into a hug.  “And second, Striders stick together.  It’s what we do.  So you can count on me, lil’ man.  Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

“Bro—” Dirk mumbles into your shirt, hugging you back tightly.

“Yeah,” you agree, suddenly feeling like all is right in the world.  You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, or how you’re going to fix anything.  But you know that you _will_.  You will because you have to for Dirk.  You have to so that Dave can grow up and meet John and live out the rest of his years happily with him until he’s old as fuck just like your mom wanted.

You’re going to do it all because you have to.  Because that’s what Bro did.

And now, you’re him.  From now until April 5th, when you will send Dirk off on an assignment to fight zombies at the Old Plaza Mall, and probably after that.  Dirk Strider is the little kid falling asleep on your arm.  He isn’t you anymore.

You’re Bro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has stuck around to this point! ESPECIALLY to those of you who have left comments and reviews! This chapter was written so quickly because I was really motivated by all of them last time! I know everyone says that, but seriously it’s true!
> 
> Congrats to those of you who guessed the big plot twist!!! If you go back to chapter 1, you’ll notice I’ve been hinting that Dirk is Bro this whole time. I’m so excited and happy that so many of you figured it out! My readers are the best readers. All the love! =)


	18. Save the World

**Dirk == >  Be Bro**

Yeah, you’re still not really sure how to do that.  Bro always had all the answers.  He knew what he was doing and he got shit done.  He was cool.

Sitting huddled in the damp cellar of your parents’ home, whose deaths earlier today were entirely your fault, makes you feel less than cool.  In fact, you feel the exact opposite of cool.  But you’re not about to admit that. 

Dirk wears himself out and falls asleep against you, just as Dave begins to wake.  Slowly, Dave opens his eyes and blinks at you.  “Hey, lil’ bro,” you murmur to him softly.

Dave, naturally, doesn’t respond.  Instead he opens his mouth, yawning and working up the beginnings of a cry.

And you see them.  Two sharp little teeth.

You shouldn’t be surprised.  You have them too, but you’ve never had to use them.  Usually, you forget that they’re even there.  It’s not like they are usually much longer than your other teeth or attract any kind of attention.  You don’t smile wide enough for anyone to see them anyway.  Only in rare circumstances has Dave ever bared them at you.  In fact, the only time that comes to mind is when you took John away from him after he had been trapped and starved in that Derse cell months ago. 

But in infancy, Dave’s fangs are definitely pronounced, especially since he doesn’t seem to have any of his other teeth.  You didn’t think babies were supposed to be born with teeth anyway. What the hell?

Rose’s words come back to you.  She could feed him her milk, but you’re going to have to feed him another way: your blood. 

It starts to make sense.  Frowning, you reach behind you, where you realize your katana and your father’s are both still strapped to your back.  Did you really never take them off this whole time?  Apparently you didn’t.

Gently, you nick the skin of your thumb enough to draw blood and place it next to the baby’s mouth.  Instantly, he begins to suck at your thumb, gurgling happily as he slowly pulls your blood into him.

This is so not your favorite feeling in the world.  But at least it’s keeping Dave quiet so that you can think about what to do.  Just what the fuck _do_ you do?

You’re stuck in the middle of a war zone with two children, one that isn’t even a day old.  Your parents are dead, your boyfriend is currently a universe-destroying monster, and the guardian that you were counting on to save you from this whole mess is actually _you_. 

Just.  Fucking.  Fantastic. 

You sigh.  You’re not even sure how you’re going to get out of this cellar.

“C’mon Bro,” you murmur to yourself.  “What would you do here?  What _did_ you do?”

You think back to Bro’s last conversation with you.  It was a long time ago, but you dig back into your memory and try to pull out what he said.  Because somehow you know he wouldn’t have left you without some kind of clue.  Think, did anything sound weirder than usual?

“ _She’ll help you._ ”

Oh fuck no.

There’s only one _she_ you know in the past that isn’t dead right now.  You wrack your brain for someone, _anyone else_ that Bro might have been referring to.

But you come up empty handed.  And knowing just how— _close—_ Bro was with her makes your skin crawl.  It also makes you realize that there is absolutely nobody else it could be.

Her Imperious Condescension.  Betty.

_“She’ll help you.  That’s all you need to know.  Trust me on this one. I promise it’ll be the last time you’ll ever have to just take my word for things again.”_

You sigh a lamentable sigh of defeat, because you know that you have nowhere else to turn right now.  You literally don’t know a single other soul in the past.  And, with the war between humans and demons happening, finding a safe place for your brothers is critical.

What place could be safer than the Condesce’s castle in Derse?

Dirk is still sleeping beside you, and with Dave still sucking greedily away at your thumb, the small incision you made earlier hasn’t closed yet.  You can’t leave for her castle until the kids are ready.

Suddenly, you feel very confined by it all.  Is this the feeling that parents have when they first realize that their time isn’t their own?  That everything they do from this moment out will be for their children?  That they might not be able to take legendary infinite showers ever again?

You sweep the feeling away.  Nope.  Not worth thinking about it right now.  You have other things to think about, such as what you’re going to do with your universe-destroying boyfriend when you eventually run into him again.

By now, you know that you can’t kill Jake.  But somehow, the universe is fine in the future, which means that you must figure out a way to deal with Lord English.

Think. What did Bro do?  What will _you_ do?  There must be something that’s happened in the last few days that can help you.  Something you realized or something you learned.

Maybe something your father told you? 

Suddenly, it hits you.  You think about your father’s words.  Something that you can do but have never really done before.  That you have dabbled in but never to this extent.

You know how you are going to defeat Lord English.  It will be risky, and you might fail.  But you would rather chance it all and die trying than let the universe end knowing that you never tried.

But if it works out the way you’re thinking in your head, you can defeat Lord English _and_ save Jake.

You really hope you don’t fuck this up.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Calm Dave down** 

That is an exceedingly hard thing to do when you’re trying to clear away enough debris to escape the cellar.  You’ve been working at it for a couple hours now, slowly moving the remains of the collapsed walls above you out of the way while Dirk plays with Lil’ Cal and Dave struggles uncomfortably in his swaddling on the bed.

For the fifth time, Dave cries.  You sigh, setting aside a large piece of timber so that you can come to the baby’s side.  Gently you pick him up and bounce him a bit in your arms.  The last few times, this calmed him down quickly enough, but this time his cries aren’t stopping.  “Hey lil’ man.  What are you crying for?”

“Dave is hungry,” Dirk answers for him.

You glance at Dirk sharply.  Were your senses really that sharp already at the age of 3?  Focusing on Dave, you realize that Dirk is right.  You can sense his tiny lick of hunger.  As if Dave were giving you more clues, he opens his mouth again, showing you his tiny little teeth, though he doesn’t seem to know what to do with them.  He cries in frustration.

You had been so wrapped up moving the debris that you hadn’t been paying attention to your little brother’s needs.  You hadn’t noticed, but Dirk had.

With a sigh, you make a small cut on your thumb again and offer it to Dave.  He quiets his cries as he slowly takes to sucking at your thumb.  You’re going to have to figure out how to feed his incubus urges soon too, otherwise you’re certain this child is going to bleed you dry.

“Dirk, you should eat something too,” you tell him, indicating with a nod of your head toward the cabinet where you found the dried food.  “Eat what you want from there and gather up the rest.  We’ll need it soon.”

Dirk turns to Lil’ Cal, taking a moment to readjust the puppet so that it’s facing him.  After staring into its lifeless eyes for a moment, he turns to you and says, “ok.  Lil’ Cal thinks it is a good idea too.”

You watch with morbid fascination as Dirk carefully collects Lil’ Cal and carries the puppet with him.  Then, he sets it gently to the side while he opens the cabinet doors and starts snacking on some dried apricot slices.  Haphazardly, he stuffs other dried fruits into his pockets for later. 

Dirk always liked the puppet, but you didn’t think he liked it _this_ much?

Unless—oh shit.  This is your fault too, isn’t it?

“ _Lil’ Cal’s gonna protect you, ok?  He’ll make sure your momma’s ok.  That everything is ok._ ”

You influenced him, and now he believes that.  This is the beginning of that unnatural obsession you always had with Lil’ Cal, for all of those years. 

Your obsession with Lil’ Cal freaked the fuck out of some of your lovers, especially Caliborn.  As much as you bickered with Caliborn, he was eventually the reason you gave up Lil’ Cal and delegated him to his box in the closet.  You moved around a little bit in that time with Caliborn.  Gained and lost a few things along the way.  After you broke up with Caliborn, you searched for the box, but it was missing.  You hated yourself for that for a while, and you never _fully_ got over it.

Now you finally understand why it was so hard to give that puppet up.  It was your fault.  You put the suggestion there in your own 3 year old mind.

But you’re not about to try and remove it now.  Dirk needs to continue believing that you’re Bro.  And if he happens to have a little bit of an infatuation with Lil’ Cal while he’s at it?  Well. Worse things could happen.  Besides, Lil’ Cal is the shit.

Dave finally decides that he’s sampled enough of your blood, and he spits your thumb out, drooling a bit on himself.  Your thumb heals up in a matter of seconds now that he isn’t drawing from it, and you search for something to wipe away his spittle.

Eventually, you settle for the orange scarf that you’re still wearing around your neck.  Rose washed it for you along with all your other clothes when you first arrived in the past, so you figure it’s clean enough for Dave.

A small sad smile crosses your lips as you think of who gave you that scarf.  Jake meant to give it to you on your birthday, and you suppose it kind of _is_ your birthday.  You sort of cheated your way to the date, but it is likely still December the 3 rd.

You can just imagine Jake standing there with a gift, wrapped half in green paper and half in tape, smiling that fucking adorable bucktooth smile at you while he holds the present out to you and says, “ _Happy Birthday, old chap!_ ”  You can see his anticipation, the rapt fixation of his eyes on your hands as you slowly, tantalizingly, tear away the tape one piece at a time.  You can hear his whine of impatience as you tease him with the agony of waiting to see your reaction.  And you can imagine the look of happiness on his face as you pull the scarf out of the wrapping, allowing a small smile on your lips because you know how big of a smile you get from _him_ when you do that.

You want that smile now and forever.  You want _Jake._   You want him all for yourself, and it’s not fucking fair that he’s trapped inside Lord English’s body.  But you’re going to get him out. You’re going to save Jake, if it’s the last thing that you do.

And it literally may be _the last thing you do_.  Especially if it doesn’t work out the way you plan.

But you can’t do any of that while you sit here holding a now softly cooing Dave.  He’s looking sort of at you, you think.  His eyes cross slightly as he tries to fixate his gaze on you. He’s so freakin’ cute that you have to remind yourself of what a little shit he’s going to grow up to be.  You carefully move the baby back to the safe place in the center of the bed, where he can’t possibly roll off.  With a heavy sigh, you return to your work.

Another hour later, you finally see the light of day.  It takes you another ten minutes to clear a large enough path for you to get through, but finally it’s done.  Carefully, you collect Dave, holding him close to your chest.  Then, you turn to Dirk.  “All right, lil’ man, ready to get the fuck out of here?”

Dirk looks at you.  Then, he looks at Lil’ Cal.  He looks back at you and nods.  “We are ready.”

Yeah.  That’s not going to get annoying at all.  But whatever, you’ll deal. 

“Also Lil’ Cal wants to know what a ‘fuck’ is,” Dirk asks.

You freeze in place.  You are so not ready for this conversation yet.

“I’ll tell you later,” you brush the question off, urging him out of the room toward daylight.

You walk down the stone passageway to freedom, up the wooden stairs, and bask in the light of the sun above.  From here, it’s going to be a little bit difficult to pick your way through the debris.  Dirk is ahead of you, and he seems to be having the same thoughts as you.  Uncertainly, he glances back at you.

“Get on my shoulders,” you tell him.  It takes him a few seconds, but eventually, he manages to maneuver Lil’ Cal around enough that he can still hold onto him, climb down a step or two, and work his way onto your shoulders.  “Ok, hold tight, because I can’t hold you and Dave and climb up at the same time.”

When you feel him grasp his little fingers tightly around your neck, you are thankful once again that you don’t have to breathe.  Carefully, you begin picking your way up through the wreckage of the home.  When you finally reach the top, you step out onto a pile of rubble.

The entire house was flattened above you.  You’re lucky, actually, that neither of the chimneys fell across the top of the trapdoor.  That would have taken much longer to clear away.  As it was, you only had one wall and part of the roof to remove.

When you’re finally free of all the wreckage, you think about setting Dirk back down on the grass, but then you decide against it.  Instead, you ask him, “have you ever flash-stepped before?”

You feel him shake his head above you.  You grin and murmur, “hang on tight.”  His grip on you tightens again, and just to be on the safe side, you put your free hand behind his back to keep him in place.

Then you start the flash-stepping journey to the portal to Derse.

Dirk lets out a squeal of surprise at first, leaning over onto your head and clinging to you tighter.  Then, you hear his laughter, and feel the light fluttering of happiness in his heart.  Oh yes. You are going to teach this kid to flashstep ASAP.

Dave surprisingly sleeps through the entire trip.  In a little over an hour, you’ve reached the same copse of pine trees that your father brought you to.  You know that Derse’s portal is buried within.

“This is going to hurt a little bit, but you’ll be ok,” you murmur, finally pulling Dirk off your shoulders.  You cradle him and Lil’ Cal in the arm not holding Dave.  Then you turn your back to the trees, using your body as a shield for your brothers.  Dave is small enough that he doesn’t get pricked at all.  Dirk winces a couple times, but he doesn’t complain.  Lil’ Cal continues to look at you with those unblinking eyes. 

You smile.  Lil’ Cal’s cool as shit.

And then you’re through the trees.  The dark portal swirls in front of you, beckoning you to jump in.

For the first time during this trip, Dirk makes a small sound of protest.  You look at him, and he looks back at you.  “It looks scary in there.”

“Trust me, there are scarier things out here,” you mutter.  “But I don’t want you to have to deal with them.  That’s why I’m bringing you here.”

Dirk frowns and asks, “Bro, are you bringing me to a _babysitter?_ ”

You laugh and say, “I guess I am.”

You walk through the portal, instinctively holding your brothers tighter to you.  You remember the way through the castle to the throne room, and though you don’t recall any dangers, you still keep your guard up. The guard at the door tries to stop you, but you flashstep past him into the throne room.

Her Imperious Condescension is lounging on the throne, spinning her golden trident absently as she eyes a glowing sphere in her hand.  She doesn’t bother looking up at you.  She knows you’re there. Her voice drifts lazily across the room as she says, “you’ve caused a lot a trouble, Dirk Strider.”

Dirk furrows his brows and looks up at you in question.

“Bro,” you correct her.  “My name’s Bro.”

At this, she actually does look up and cackle.  Then she lets out a short sigh, and in a drawling voice, she says, “call yourself whatever you want, _Bro_ , it doesn’t change what you did.  Or rather.  What you didn’t.”

Slowly, you start to approach the throne where she is sitting, watching her and carefully keeping all your senses sharp to gauge her reaction.  The atmosphere is tense, and you _know_ that she’s watching you too.  Judging you.  One wrong move and you and your brothers could all die in a matter of moments.

But you know that Bro wouldn’t lead you wrong.  He said she would help you.  That this would be the last thing he would ask you to do.  So as much as you don’t want to, you are going through with this now.  You’ll listen to him, because you have no other options.

“I know,” you murmur.  “It’s my fault that my parents are both gone, because I couldn’t pull the trigger.”

“Oh, I saw that spectacle,” the Condesce says, holding her glowing magical ball aloft. “I can see anything my demons see.  And a lot of them saw _you_.”

You continue walking forward across the long hall to her throne, your footsteps echoing off the high ceilings made of dark stone.  “But I’m going to fix it.  I know how.”

Suddenly, the Condesce rises from her throne.  “You come to me sayin’ the same things as last time, but why should I believe you?  Tell me why, when you’re so enamored with—”

She’s behind you before you can register that she’s moved.  Her lips are so close to your skin that you can feel her breath as she growls lowly into your ear, “— _Jake._ ”

You stand your ground firmly.  Not just because of your Strider pride, but also because you know it’s what you have to do with the Condesce.  She likes powerful men that keep their cool like your father.  Like Bro.

Like _you_.

And knowing that is your one advantage. The Condesce _likes_ you, and she might be willing to hear you out if you have something to offer her.

“I’ll get rid of Lord English this time.  I swear it,” you say, your conviction strong in your voice.  “But I need something from you in return.  The warzone is no place for children.”

You hear her gasp in surprise and step back from you.  When you turn around, the sight that greets you makes you frown.

The Condesce is doubled over in laughter.  “You want _ME_ to watch _CHILDREN?_ ”  Her laughter grows louder, echoing off the walls and ceilings, bouncing around chaotically through the room.

“Yes, I do,” you agree.

Dirk clings to you a bit tighter, and you can tell even without dipping into his mind that he really doesn’t want to be anywhere near the Condesce.  You don’t blame him.  You hold him tighter and try to send him reassuring vibes.

Eventually, her laughter dies out and the Condesce regards you quietly.  She cocks her head to the side, as if observing you from a different angle.  “Strider, I like you, and because I like you I’m goin’ to give you a chance.”

Your body tenses as you wait for her conditions.  Betty never gives something for nothing.

“Kill Lord English, and I won’t kill your babies,” she says, grinning at you in a far too predatory manner.  “If they scream, they die.  If they cry, they die.  If they move—”

“I get it,” you interrupt crossly.  She’s making Dirk all the more fearful, and you are starting to really despise her for that.  “Don’t worry, they’ll sleep the whole time I’m gone.”

She continues to smile at you, showing you her rows of gleaming sharp teeth.  “Like father like son.  Don’t fail me.”  With that, she turns around and walks back to her throne.

It’s done.  Your brothers’ safety is secured.  You breathe a short sigh of relief and carry your brothers over to the side of the room.  Carefully, you tuck them both behind one of the pillars by the wall.

“Bro, I cannot sleep.  And I do not want—” Dirk begins to say.

But before he can say anymore, you’ve already slipped your shades down and caught his eyes with yours.

**_Mine. Dirk, you’re mine._ **

Instantly, he stops talking, and his eyes glaze over.  You hate to do this to him, but you’re going to take his memory of this too.  There’s no reason he should have to remember the Condesce threatening to kill him and Dave.  He already has enough bad memories for the day.

_**Sleep.** _

Dirk’s eyes close, and you lay him carefully onto the stone floor. 

Dave is next.  You pause for a moment.  You’ve never tried putting someone so young under your influence.   You’re not even sure it’s possible. But you have to try. 

Gently, you rub the side of the infant’s cheek with your thumb, coaxing him to wake.  Sleepily, unhappily, he whines and opens his eyes to you.

It’s all you need to catch him and put him under your influence.  Seconds later, you’ve coaxed him back to sleep.

You frown as you lay him down beside his sleeping brother.  You really don’t want to leave them here, but there isn’t much you can do.  If you take them with you, you know that they’ll die.

With resignation, you turn away from them and make your way to the throne.  The Condesce is waiting for you when you get there.  In an almost bored voice, she says, “English has destroyed three more villages in the time it took you to get to me.  He’s on his way to the fourth.  Take the portal five rooms down to the left, then head east.  You should arrive at his location within the hour.”

You nod at her.  “Thank you.”

She flicks her gaze up at you languidly and says, “do not fail me.  Again.”

You turn and leave.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Save the World**

That’s exactly what you’re going to do.  The universe, in fact.  All the universes.

The Condesce was good on her word.  After using the portal and heading east, you see signs of Lord English’s passing within fifteen minutes.  The smoke is thick in the air as is the scent of burning wood and flesh.  The smell of war and death fills the entire countryside.

Follow it, and you know you’ll find Lord English. Find Lord English, and you’ll find Jake.

You think back to the last time you faced Lord English.  You’re not sure how long ago that actually was, because you lost track of time in the cellar shelter.  But if you had to guess, less than a day has passed.

You weren’t ready to face him those other times.  You didn’t know how heavy the consequences of your failure would be.  And, as much as you are ashamed to admit it, you don’t think you would have done anything differently even if you did know. 

It isn’t that you didn’t love your parents.  Or that you didn’t care that they died.  You may only truly remember the past 3 days with them, but it was long enough for them to make a significant impact on your heart.  You truly miss them and wish that they were alive.

But, as you’ve come to realize, life just loves to shit on you.  As is evidenced by what you are about to do now to the one you love the most.  To Jake.

Five minutes later, the burning village comes into sight, filled with demons, humans, and bodies.  This village is very similar to the one your parents lived near, and with the thrum of battle heavy in the air, it is almost indistinguishable. 

You slip by the skirmishes just outside the village unseen, leaving the humans and demons to kill each other without your presence.  Stealthily you flash-step through the village itself, avoiding the wreckage of the flaming homes and the piles of bodies that have already begun to accumulate in the streets.

The wind picks up, swirling the ashes of the burnt wreckage through the street, obscuring everything in a thick gray cloud.  Luckily, you don’t have to breathe and are not affected, but you hear the chokes and gasps for breath from both humans and demons alike all around you.  You take advantage of the distraction to move through some of the more heavily populated parts of the village.

And all the while, you sense the lingering evil of Lord English’s soul thick in the atmosphere.  As you grow closer and closer to his position, it almost becomes palpable, and you can taste the foulness of his energy from a distance.

How many souls has he consumed to have such a putridly palpable miasma surrounding him?  Could you have avoided it all by killing him in the very beginning, like Jake told you to do?

You can’t bear to think about it.  If you do, you might lose your focus, and that is something you cannot afford to let happen at this time.  You are here for a very specific reason.

You are here to kill Lord English.

You find him on the outskirts of the town.  He’s been moving about, lurking nearby.  Bursting through the cloud of ash and smoke, you draw Jake’s gun and prepare your soul for what is coming.

Lord English is standing away from the chaos, just outside of town.  He’s gripping a demon you recognize in his claws.

Rufioh.  Lord English is holding him aloft, ready to squeeze the life out of him and consume his soul.  You hear an ominous snap.  Shit, you hope that you’re not too late.

“HEY!” You shout, drawing Lord English’s attention to you.  “Forget about him.  You and I have a score to settle.”

Lord English does exactly that. He turns his seizure-inducing multi-colored eyes on you and grins wickedly. Without a thought, he tosses Rufioh to the side, discarding him to the dirt ground several feet away.

You steel your resolve and tap into his mind.  Lord English’s acrid thoughts are like a corrosive in your brain.

**_DIRK STRIDER. YOU JUST CAN’T WAIT. TO DIE CAN YOU?_ **

But it wasn’t really Lord English you were strengthening your resolve to hear.  It was the other voice that you know is in there too.

_Oh no—!  Dirk, no!  I thought you had escaped!  Why did you come back?! **Why?!!**_

“Striders finish what they start,” you say loud enough for Lord English, and Jake, to hear you.  For the third time, you hold Jake’s gun aloft.

**_I HAVE NEVER. HEARD THAT ONE._ **

“Maybe it’s an ancient fucking Chinese prophecy.  Shit from legends you’ll never know,” you say.  You’re rambling a little, but you think it sounds pretty cool and it comforts you a bit.  And given what you’re about to do, you will need all the comfort you can get.  “Maybe I just made it up.  Doesn’t make it any less true.  And I’ve come to finish _you_ , Lord English.”

_Please, Dirk.  I hope that’s true this time. Dave is already gone and I can’t—I can’t watch you go too!_

“That was my father you killed.  And my mother,” you say loudly and clearly, taking aim with Jake’s gun.  You cock the hammer and place your finger on the trigger.  “And now you’re going to pay for their lives with your own.”

Lord English grins malevolently at you.

**_I ENJOYED KILLING.  YOUR FATHER AND MOTHER.  AND I WILL ENJOY KILLING. YOU DIRK STRIDER._ **

_Please shoot this time!  Shoot me!  Kill me!_

You can’t see Jake, but you can tell from his thoughts that he would be crying now if he could.  He’s so torn, and all you want is to take him and hold him.  You want to tell him it’ll all be ok.  That you’ll be together forever.  You don’t know if that will be possible, but you do know that everything hinges on one thing.

This time, you’d better not freeze up.

Lord English starts coming your way, and once again, time slows.

The sound of the war in the village becomes muted.

Lord English slowly takes a step toward you, kicking up dust and grass as he powers your way with his lizard-like clawed feet.

You take a breath to steady your nerves, and you feel the cold metal of Jake’s gun, Jake’s _life_ , in your hands. 

One shot and this can all be over.

One shot and Lord English will be gone forever.

And so will Jake.

Jake isn’t even thinking anything coherent anymore.  All you get from him is an infinite sadness and misery.

Lord English seems almost gleeful as he races toward you.  His presence grows thicker and more foul with every step.

Another second passes.  And he’s almost reached you.

You aim the gun for his heart.

_Please please please please please_

Your grip on the weapon tightens.

**_DIE DIRK STRIDER!!!_ **

Lord English’s soul is so putrid and so revolting that you want to retch.

He’s here. He’s almost on top of you now.

You swallow away all of your hesitations.  It’s now or never.

Lord English reaches for your heart.

In one quick motion, you adjust your aim and fire.

Lord English roars and bellows a terrifying honking sound that sends shockwaves through the earth like a massive earthquake, leveling several of the homes in the village.  With your senses, it still looks like slow-motion as he falls to the ground.

**_DIRK STRIDER. HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU?!!!_ **

Where you shot him, nothing remains.  The gun that Jake gave you was far more destructive than you imagined.  It left far more of a scar than a mere bullet wound.

It completely blew away Lord English’s right leg from the knee down.

Wasting absolutely no time, you take advantage of the demon’s shock and move in until you are so close that you can taste his sordid energy.  You place your hand flush against the scaly green skin of his chest and focus.

It doesn’t take you long to feel them both inside the monstrous body.  Lord English’s soul and Jake’s soul.

Lord English hits the ground.  You don’t have any time to spare.

You’ve never done this before, but your father said it was possible.  He said that you could.  It’s a long shot, but it’s all you’ve got.

With your free hand, you tear off your shades and look Lord English in his multicolored eyes.

**_Mine. Lord English, you’re fucking MINE._ **

As the demon’s eyes widen in surprise, you grab his soul and _pull._

Electricity sparks around you, between your hand and the monster’s skin as you forcefully rip his soul away from his body.  He fights you, unwilling to relinquish his hold on Jake’s body, but you aren’t about to give up.  You _can’t_ give up. 

Everyone is depending on you.  Your brothers.  Your parents.  The universes.

Jake.

If you give up, Jake will never get his body back.  He’ll be trapped inside Lord English forever, watching him slaughter millions and millions. 

He’ll have to watch you die.

You can’t let Jake suffer like that.  You’ve never done this before, but you _have_ to make it work. 

Strengthening your resolve, you pump more of your energy into it and pull with everything you have.

Sparks fly all around you, and lightning strikes the nearby trees and homes, emanating from Lord English’s body.  You’ll need both hands for this.  Throwing your shades aside, you grasp the demon’s soul with both hands. 

With a loud roar, you rip Lord English’s soul out of Jake’s body.

Lord English’s soul is so dense with pure evil, and so heavy with the souls of all the demons he has consumed, that his soul is physically tangible.  It looks like an amorphous pile of toxic black sludge.  You throw the deformed demon soul to the ground, not bothering to watch as pieces of him splatter across the ground.

Your attention is already back on the body the demon left behind.  You turn quickly and _oh fuck_ you hope this worked.

The demon’s form slowly begins to melt away, green scales sloughing off like a snake shedding its skin.  The pieces disintegrate and disappear, leaving behind a form you’ve missed all too much.

“Jake—” you whisper hoarsely. Your voice is quiet, and you almost don’t recognize it as your own.  Quickly, you fall to your knees beside him, collecting him into your arms.  Your voice gains volume and strength as your fingers tense around his skin.  “Oh fuck, Jake, please be ok!”

Jake just lays in your arms limply like a motionless doll.  He doesn’t do anything. 

You’re worried. You’re so fucking worried.

And then slowly, he opens his viridian eyes, blinking up at you.

It’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.  “Dirk?” he murmurs.  Slowly, you feel him begin to move, leaning in ever so slightly to your body.

“Yeah, I’m here,” you say quickly, holding him tightly.  You try to gauge his feelings, his thoughts, but you’re too much of a mess from finally having him _back_ to do any of that.  “Jake— _fuck—_ ”

Jake smiles and murmurs, “you want to do that already?”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up with your heart, but when you finally hear his question for what it is, you laugh.  He’s ok.  _Jake’s_ _ok_ and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier.  You lean over and kiss him softly.  His lips are gentle and sweet, and he tastes like _Jake._ Damn, you’ve missed kissing this man. 

“Sorry I shot off your leg,” you murmur, finally pulling away from him.

“That’s ok. It grew back,” Jake responds nonchalantly. 

You glance down sharply and realize that yes, it did grow back.  Well you’ll be damned.  Technically, you guess you probably already are.

Jake reaches up, brushing a few tendrils of your hair out of your eyes.  Then, he cups the side of your face with his hand.  You lean into the warmth of his touch.  “Fuck, Jake, I’ve missed you so fucking much.  You have no idea.”

“I think I do,” he responds softly, followed by a small quiet laugh. Then, your boyfriend’s expression changes.  He looks sadly into your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, and you know that you aren’t going to like what he has to say.  “Dirk, thank you for saving me, but I need you to do something.”

“What?” you ask hesitantly.

Jake regards you with the most beautiful and mournful eyes as he says, “put Lord English back inside me.”

“ _What?!_ ” you exclaim.  “You can’t be fucking serious!  No fucking way I’m putting that monster back in you!”

Gently, Jake rubs his thumb across your cheek, his voice pleading as he says, “please, you have to.  Lord English is powerful enough that he doesn’t need a body to wage war.  To destroy universes.  The only way to stop him is to contain him, and the only container strong enough for that is my body.”

“Jake no,” you murmur, clutching him tighter. “No I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me, Dirk.  I kept control of him for millennia before this, and I shall again,” Jake assures you.  “But please, you must do it soon.  I was in his head.  When you were ripping him out of me, I felt his fear.  I saw what he was planning to do.”

“What is it?  Whatever it is, we can stop it. I know we can,” your voice picks up in both intensity and speed, and you know that you’re going to start rambling.  But you can’t lose Jake.  Not when you just got him back.  You’ll do anything you can to keep him.

But Jake quickly presses a finger to your lips.  “Not now. We don’t have time for that.  Lord English is hatefully obsessed with you and afraid of you for some reason.  I fear I am to blame for that.  He plans to return to the future, to the day that you and I left, so that neither of us will be a threat.  Then he will crush this planet, this universe, and all the adjoining universes.  Eat souls. Grow stronger.  He is already nigh unstoppable, so I quite frankly cannot imagine the terror if he were to grow even more powerful.”

“Can’t I kill him with this gun you gave me?” you ask, indicating toward the iridescent weapon that you hadn’t realized you discarded to the ground earlier.

Jake thinks about it, then shakes his head.  “He doesn’t have a body to kill.  That gun is designed to kill _me_.  My body.  If my body were to die with his soul trapped within, then he would die too.  Maybe in time I could figure out a way to destroy his soul separately, but we don’t have that kind of time.”

You listen to Jake’s words, absorbing them all and quickly working out every solution you possibly can think of.  It takes you a matter of seconds to figure out what you have to do, but you can’t accept it. You’ve got to be wrong. There has to be another way.

You run through your list of possibilities again.  And again.  _And again_.  

No. _No no no no no!!!!_  

Jake’s expression grows more desperate, more hurt, and he pleads with you again, “Dirk, please hurry!  Do it while he is still stunned!”

But you aren’t even really listening to Jake.  You’re frantically crunching all of the facts together, everything you know about Lord English, about Jake, about yourself, about the universe.  Everything that anyone has ever told you that could possibly help you.

“ _Heh, you’d better stay in bed, lil’ man, otherwise the big bad Lord English is gonna come and eat your **soul!!**_ ”

“ _Do you remember what your friend Roxy told us all those months ago?  About how all of the angels are waging a holy war against all demons, searching for one demon_ _in particular? I am that demon._ ”

“ _I’ve been around forever.  So has he._ _The world destroyer.  The bane of all._ ”

“ _I found a way to trap him inside my body. Safe within the confines of my soul, Lord English is unable to do a thing._ ”

 “ _The monster is tearing the very fabric of reality with his existence.  Either English has become more powerful than before, or there are **two** of him in the world right now.  Kill that mothafucka._ ”

 _“You have the weapon that can kill him right? It seems your boyfriend tailored it to you and you alone. He must trust you quite a bit to give that to you._ ”

“ _Lord English will kill us all._ ”

Bro. Jake. Her Imperious Condescension. Your father.  Your mother.  You synthesize everyone’s tidbits of knowledge together again and again.

And still, you come to the same conclusion.

“Fuck, Jake—” you growl, pulling him into a desperate hug.  “Fuck fuck fuck—”

“Dirk?” Jake’s arms finally circle around you.  He embraces you gently, rubbing soft circles into your back. There’s a note of worry in his voice as he asks, “are you quite all right?”

“Yeah,” you murmur instinctively.  Then, you groan, grasping him tighter to you and change your mind. “No.”

“You’re being extraordinarily perplexing today,” Jake says back quietly.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just,” you pull him to you tighter, breathing in his scent, feeling his mix of bewilderment and happiness to just be near you again. 

Feeling his love.  You focus on that and burn it into your memory. You don’t ever want to forget what that feels like.  Eventually, you sigh and say, “it’s just been a hard few days.”

“I’m sorry, Dirk,” Jake says quietly, kissing your neck lightly.  “I wish that I could have stopped him.”

“I know, I don’t blame you at all, Jake,” you pull away from him and look him in the eyes, so that he will know that you are completely serious about that statement. “Don’t ever think that the things Lord English did were your fault.”

Speaking of the dreaded demon himself, you notice the amoeba-like pile of evil goo that you ripped out of Jake slowly begin to move.  It starts to take on a humanoid shape, lifting the bud of a head and slowly rising to semi-formed knees.  It stretches out an arm limb bud and looks like it’s trying to grow.  You know that you don’t have too much time left.

“Jake, I’ll do it. I’ll put him back in you, but don’t think that this is the end.  Because it’s not,” you tell him, your voice fierce with conviction.  “I’m never going to stop loving you, no matter what happens.”

“Dirk?  What are you saying?” he asks, blinking at you with concern. “You sound as if—”

Jake’s sentence is cut off by a loud tearing sound.  You turn to see Lord English almost fully formed, crawling on his hands and knees.  His clawed hand is extended in front of him where he has ripped a massive hole in the fabric of time and space.

It’s your ticket out.

Quickly, you rise to your feet, pulling Jake up with you.  You extend your hand toward Lord English, and now that you’ve felt the exact chemistry of his soul, you’re able to form the electric bonds between your hands and his soul easily from a short distance.  Your face contorts with exertion as you pull the revolting demonic soul toward you.

Lord English’s honking roar fills the air as you hold him in place, keeping him from disappearing through the portal he has created.

With one last glance at Jake, you ask, “are you sure?”

He nods, holding his arms out to his sides.  In a firm voice he says, “yes. Do it.”

You bow your head in sorrow for a moment before amassing your strength into one giant pull.  With everything you have, you heave Lord English’s soul away from the portal, back toward you—

—and back into Jake.

Your boyfriend closes his eyes, a pained cry escaping his lips as the darkness funnels into his body.  He grits his teeth, tormenting through whatever is happening as Lord English’s dark energy swirls all around him, penetrating into him from every angle.

For the umpteenth time in the last couple days, you feel so fucking worthless.  You can’t do anything but watch as Jake endures the agony of trapping Lord English in the confines of his soul.  You wish that this didn’t have to be Jake’s burden to bear.  You wish more than anything that you could just get _rid_ of Lord English forever, or that at the very least you could be the one to carry the responsibility of being the demon’s prison.

But you can’t.  Nobody but Jake can.  He’s the First Guardian, not you.  You remember Bro telling you about First Guardians now.  About how they are incredible beings, the first in their universe to exist.  About how they safeguard the universe and its beings, doing everything in their power to achieve that goal.  You always wondered why Bro cared so much about them.  Now you guess you know.

Finally, the swirling darkness begins to settle.  As the air clears, you wait tensely while Jake stands motionless.  His eyes are still closed, his eyebrows contorted in concentration.  He starts to open his eyes.

“ _Please be green please be green please be green—_ ” you think to yourself over and over again.  You tense, not daring to move a muscle. As if that would change what happens at all.

Jake’s eyes are green.  As always, the most beautiful emerald green you’ve ever seen.  He smiles, and you smile with him.  “Dirk,” he murmurs.

And then, he’s falling forward.

You’re quick to catch him in your grasp, holding him steady.  “Jake, are you all right?”

He dips his head down once and back up in a small nod.  “That took a bit more effort than I’d have liked, but otherwise I’m fit as a fiddle!”

“Thank your fucking god in Prospit. You had me worried,” you murmur, smiling and nuzzling your nose to his.

“The ruler of Prospit is not _my_ god,” Jake clarifies.  Then he smiles and kisses you chastely.  “All right, are you ready for our trip _back to the future_?  It’ll be just like those movies, Strider!  I can be Marty McFly, and you can be Doc Brown!”

“Why am I the crazy old guy?” You ask, chuckling as you both walk over to the portal.  It’s a bit smaller than when Lord English first created it, but there’s still plenty of time for you both to make it through.

Jake laughs and explains, “because obviously I’m the one with an eye for adventure, and you’re the one with an eye for—”

You shut him up with a deep kiss.  Affectionately, you wrap your arms around him and pull him closely to you, feeling the warmth of his body, the depth of his love for you, and the interest you’re cultivating in him from your lingering kiss.  The energy of the portal swirls beside you, creating an ironic as shit backdrop for your makeouts.

Jake moans softly into the kiss, tightly embracing you back and threading his fingers through your hair.  His interest is hardening against your thigh, and you _wish_ you had time to do something about it.

As it is, you pull the viridian energy of his pleasure to you, indulging in both its taste and the taste of his tongue on yours.  Jake’s body is fucking gorgeous and you want him so badly.  But Jake’s mind and soul are so much more beautiful.  Jake’s pure, unadulterated _hope_ for your future and that of this universe is the brightest thing you have ever seen.

It takes all of your restraint to pull away from him.  Jake looks at you with a slightly puzzled expression.  “Dirk?” he asks. “What’s wrong?  Something you want to tell me?”

“Yeah, there is,” you murmur, noting that the portal is getting smaller by the second.  Within the minute it will be gone.  You don’t have much time left.  You detach Jake’s hands and arms from you, then you hold his hands tightly in your own.  You smile sadly and brush his lips with one last kiss.

“I love you, Jake.”

You push him into the time-rift.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Dirk pushed Jake in. You read that right, so being the awesome readers that you are, I’m sure you know what will happen next! But don’t worry, if you aren’t sure, Dirk will probably answer your questions in the beginning of the next chapter.
> 
> Yes! There will be more chapters! Some of you thought that last chapter was the end of the story, to which I say, “no way! It can’t possibly end like that!” Trust me, you’ll know the end when it comes.
> 
> Thank you so much for the sea of reviews, comments, and notes on that last chapter! You people are going to make me cry, seriously! Best readers. Keep it up! =)
> 
> PS: Just realized it’s kind of jarring to call you “you,” and not Dirk “you” in these end-chapter notes. Did anyone else get that just now?


	19. The Next 1000 Years

**Dirk == > Do something, damn it!** 

As Jake falls backward through the pulsating rift, all you see is the look in his widening eyes.  They’re filled with surprise.  Concern.  Fear.  Betrayal.

Love.

He reaches a hand out to you, his fingers stretching and desperately trying to grasp any part of you to hold on.  But you’ve already taken a step back, just out of reach.

Jake doesn’t have time to say a word before he’s gone.

You want to do something.  Specifically, you want nothing more than to jump through the portal to the future that you just pushed your boyfriend through. 

But you can’t.  You can’t abandon your brothers, one of them technically being the younger version of you, to die in the past.  You’re pretty sure there would be some sort of space-time paradox if you did that, and you don’t want to fuck with that shit.

You really didn’t want to push Jake in at all.  You would have rather kept him here with you in the past and lived together for the next thousand years. But you knew that Lord English couldn’t be allowed to remain in the past.  As Her Imperious Condescension warned you, two Lord Englishes are more than your universe can handle.  The mere presence of two of that demonic monster would have eventually ripped your universe to shreds.

What other choice did you have but to send Jake into the future?  To the time when the second Jake will leave for the past?  One Lord English.  Problem Solved.

Except that it isn’t solved at all.  Lord English isn’t really gone. He’s still trapped in your boyfriend.  And now a thousand years separate the two of you.

A thousand. Fucking. Years.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the spectacle before you.  The swirling portal grows smaller and smaller.  You clench your fists tightly, your nails digging into your palms hard enough to draw blood. It takes every fiber of your being to not dive in after him.

But you manage to do it.  You stand stoically and watch as the swirling portal to the future, to Jake, slowly closes and disappears.  You stare blankly at the place where the time-rift to the future was just moments ago.

Alone on the ruins of the battlefield, you inhale deeply and let out a scream of rage. 

You do it again.  And again.  _And again._

Your lungs hurt and your throat is raw by time you’re done.  You fall to your knees and don’t even bother holding back the tears. 

Fuck Strider coolness.  You just lost your boyfriend for the next thousand years.  Give or take a few decades.  You’re really not _exactly_ certain when in time you are.

“Damn it Jake!  Fuck!  Why did it have to be this way?  WHY??? **FUCK!!!** ” You scream at the empty air around you, pouring your anger with everything into your words.

Eventually, you run out of steam.  Your soul feels numb.  You can’t imagine what the next millennium is going to be like without Jake, and you don’t really want to.

But you do have responsibilities.  Their names are Dirk and Dave.  And they’re waiting for you, asleep in Her Imperious Condescension’s throne room.  Paradoxically, one of the safest and most dangerous places they could possibly be.

You have to get to them.

So you pick yourself up and try to make yourself halfway presentable.  You dust your pants off, readjust your shirt, and run your hand through your hair a few times to straighten out the disheveled strands.

You’re about to leave when you hear a soft moan from off to your left, not too far away.  You glance over and realize that in all of the turmoil you completely forgot about Rufioh.

Concerned for your friend, you quickly make your way over to where Lord English threw him earlier.  He’s managed to pick himself up into a sitting position, but he’s holding a hand to the side of his head woozily.  His usually proud colorful spikes of hair are muddied by the dirt and hang limply.  His clothes, if you can call them that, are ratty and torn.  You don’t think you’ve ever seen Rufioh in such bad shape before.

“Hey man, are you ok?” you ask, kneeling down beside him. You remember hearing an unusual cracking sound when Lord English was gripping him between his claws.  You hope he wasn’t hurt too badly.

“Yeah, man, it’s cool,” Rufioh groans, twisting his body sharply back.  You hear another loud popping sound, and suddenly he’s moving his legs again.  He fixes you with his soft brown eyes and holds a gray skinned hand out to you.  “I owe you, man.  The way you distracted Lord English—it’s the only reason I’m still alive.  And that whole soul-ripping thing—so dope!  Name’s Rufioh.  Rufioh Nitram.”

You smile and shake his hand.  So this is when you officially met Rufioh.  You’re about to give him your usual name when you recall one important detail.

Rufioh never called your older brother Dirk.  Ever.

“Bro Strider,” you say, the name sounding a bit foreign on your tongue.  You’d better get used to it now, because it will be your name for a very long time.

“Nice to meet you, Bro,” Rufioh says.  Somehow, when he says your new name, it doesn’t sound strange.  It rolls off his tongue like the rest of his vocabulary (you remember hearing the word “doll” a lot.)

Hearing Rufioh say it makes you a little bit more comfortable with who you’re trying to be.  Somehow, you feel more confident in your ability to truly be Bro.  It brings a soft smile to your lips.  “Yeah, good to meet you too,” you agree.

Rufioh stands up and stretches a bit, cracking a few more bones back into place.  “It’d be cool to stay and chat, but I’ve got a little bro to find. Tavros is probably scared shitless by now.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.  I’ve got a couple little bros too,” you reply.  “Left them behind to fight Lord English.”

“I feel ya, Bro.  I feel ya,” Rufioh winks and waves at you before turning back to the burning village.  “Catch you on the flipside.”

You nod back to him and watch him go.  By now, the fighting has ceased.  With Lord English’s disappearance, it’s almost as if the essence of the war has vanished.  The demons seem to have dispersed, but you know that the war is far from over.

The glint of metal on the ground catches your attention.  You walk over to the source, finding Jake’s gun discarded in the dirt.  Sorrowfully, you pick up the weapon and pocket it.  Remembering that you dropped something else nearby, you search until you find your shades.

You slip your shades back over your eyes.  Much better.

Your eyes sweep one last time over the empty field.  The spot where you cradled Jake.  Where you threw Lord English’s soul back into him.  Where you kissed your boyfriend one last time before pushing him through the time rift 1000 years into the future.

With a heavy heart, you turn and head back to Derse.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Be a responsible guardian** 

You’re not really sure what the fuck that looks like.  Bro certainly wasn’t a responsible guardian, so you really doubt that you will be.  But you do care about your brothers, and you aren’t going to leave them alone with Her Imperious Condescension any longer than you have to.

When you enter the throne room, she’s already waiting for you.  The sound of a single person clapping slowly echoes across the hall to your ears.  You’d better deal with her before your brothers.

She rises from her throne when you walk up to her and grins at you with her mouthful of sharp teeth.  “Well done, _Bro_.  You kept up your end of the bargain this time, and I kept mine,” she says, waving her hand grandly toward where your brothers are both still sleeping peacefully on the floor.

“I’d certainly _hope_ that two sleeping children wouldn’t give you much trouble,” you mutter, your voice coming out more angered and bitter than you intended.  You can’t help it. You’re still massively upset over Jake, and you really don’t know what you’re going to do.

The Condesce doesn’t seem to take offense to it, though.  If anything, her smile only broadens as she says, “work for me, Bro Strider.  With your help, this war will be over in a matter a days.”

“No thank you,” you say as politely as you can manage.  “I have other responsibilities now, and I don’t have time to be doing your dirty work.”

Again, the Condesce doesn’t seem offended.  She only continues to look at you eerily, her fuchsia eyes trained on you like a hawk eyeing its prey.  “Very well, do as you will.  When you change your mind, my offer will still stand.”

That was shockingly easy.  Too easy.  You are instantly suspicious.

As you feared, the Condesce begins to talk again.  It’s never simple with her.  As if she thought of it offhandedly, she murmurs, “but you do need a place to stay, don’t you?  Last time I checked, Lord English destroyed your home.”

You grimace.  Like many other things, you hadn’t thought of that yet.

“Three hallways down, up the stairs to the fifth floor, the second room on the right,” the Condesce says, stringing the words out languidly.  Her bright pink gaze flicks from one of your tangerine eyes to the other, as if she might miss your reaction in one of them.  “It was your father’s room, but now—it’s yours.  For your service in defeatin’ Lord English, it will _always_ be yours.  Wherever you go.  Whatever you choose to do.  Use it if you want to.”

You don’t say anything else to her.  Instead, you turn stiffly and make your way to where you left your brothers.  First, you gently pick up Dirk, cradling him in your arms as you murmur, “hey.  Wake up, lil’ man.”

He opens his soft orange eyes to you, hazy from your influence.  You remember what you were going to do, before you let him come to himself.  You’re going to take his memory of this encounter with the Condesce.

You smile sadly at him, brushing your fingers lightly across his forehead.  Your fingertips fill with a soft glow, and you gently tug the memory from his mind.  You know he will never like the Condesce, but he doesn’t need to be petrified of her like he is right now.

_**Yours.** _ **_Be you, Dirk._ **

He blinks a few times at you before looking around the hall.  “Where are we?” he asks quietly.  Instinctively, he gathers Lil’ Cal closer to him.

“We’re in Derse,” you tell him.  Carefully, you hoist him up into one arm and then pick up Dave in the other.  For a moment, you think about removing your influence from Dave, but your father is right.  It is so much easier to let him sleep.

You can just feel your mother’s frown at you for your choice, but you silently promise her soul that you’ll remove the influence as soon as you’re somewhere safe.  With your brothers in your arms, you walk to the massive throne room doors.

“Bro,” the Condesce says, her voice drifting to you from across the long hall.

You pause for a moment, turning around to eye her.

“When you’re ready, I’d try the seventh portal on the right.  Head south for ten minutes.  It’s a bit more hospitable for your—” the Condesce pauses, her lips curling into a bit of a frown as she finishes, “ _children._ ”

“Thank you,” you respond respectfully, then turn and leave.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Wake up Dave** 

You’ll get to that.  Soon.  Really you will.

Once again, the Condesce is good on her word.  You decided to check out the room in Derse instead of the portal.  After today’s events, you’re completely exhausted, and you have no idea where the Condesce’s portal will lead you.

You find the room easily enough.  Like the rest of Derse, it is lit by the soft purplish glow emanating from the very stones that make up the room.  Surprisingly, it’s a decent size.  You think this single room is probably larger than your parent’s entire house.  It’s certainly an upgrade from your apartment in the future.  Where you sent Jake.  Through the time-rift.  And nope! You’re not thinking about that.

Instead, you scope out the room briefly, looking for any hidden traps or cameras.  You don’t find any, but you do find something that makes your heart wrench.

In the top drawer of a dresser near the bed is a small locket.  Curiosity has always been your greatest nemesis, and you cannot resist flicking the tiny switch and pulling it open.

Inside is a picture of your parents. 

Quickly, you snap the locket shut and throw it back in the top drawer.  You can’t look at that right now.  You can’t be distracted.

Gently, you settle down on the plush purple bed, sitting tiredly at the head of the bed.  You lean back, resting your tired body against the dark metal head-board.  It’s large, king-sized if you had to guess.  Despite the size of the bed, Dirk stays right beside you, curling his tiny body next to your leg.

And despite the fact that he just slept for a couple hours while you were gone, Dirk again drifts into an uneasy slumber. Were you really only gone a couple hours?  Why the fuck does it feel like so much longer?

Finally, you address your attention to the slumbering baby in your arms.  Tenderly, you brush your fingers against his cheek and murmur, “hey, wake up lil’ bro.”

As soon as Dave opens his tiny red eyes to you, you give him back to himself.

**_Yours. Be you, Dave._ **

The baby doesn’t seem much different.  He does squirm a bit more, attempting to kick his feet against the swaddling.  Before he can even fuss about it, you make a small cut in your skin and offer him your thumb.

Dave accepts it happily. 

You sigh, wondering just how long this is going to go on.  How long will they be helpless children? How long before they can take care of themselves?  And even when they can, will you trust that they will be ok?  That agents won’t come for them in the night?

You can’t help but think that it all doesn’t add up.  If the Agents are from Derse, and the Condesce is the ruler of Derse, then why the fuck were they ever after you and your bros?  Did the Midnight Crew always target you, or was that a more recent development, after you fell in love with Jake? 

Or, more importantly, after Jake fell in love with _you_?

Questions, questions.  It seems like every time you turn around there are more questions and so few answers.  You sigh with the futility of it all.

You wish that someone could just give you the answers.

You wish you had someone you could trust to talk to.

**TimaeusTestified [TT]** **began pestering** TimaeusTestified [TT]  at 11:35

**TT:  Hey.**

“Oh my fucking god, AR, I’ve never been so happy to see your fucking robot text,” you murmur to your shades, your voice more shaken than you expected.

**TT:  Yeah, I know.  Sorry I had to wait this long to contact you.  That’s what he said to do.**

“He?”  You ask.

**TT:  The other me.  The me living in Bro’s shades.**

“The fuck?” you mutter.

**TT:  When Bro ran that file, he merged the version of me in his shades with… well, me.  Now we’re both me.**

Why would Bro do that?  For a good couple minutes, you think it over.  Dave spits out your thumb, falling quickly back to sleep.  Gently, you rock the infant in his sleep.

Still, you can’t fathom the answer.  Why would Bro want to merge your AR and his?

**TT:  Oh wait.  He said when you think that to play this file:**

And then, a video begins to play in front of your eyes.  On the lenses of the shades you’ve worn forever is Bro.  He’s sitting in his office chair without his shades on.  You can see mirrored in his orange eyes your own expression, and you wonder why you never figured it out sooner.

“Hey lil’ man,” he says.  Woah.  He _said_ that?  Can everyone hear him?

Somehow, across time and space, he picks the thought out of your head.  “No, I added a 2-way neural link with you and AR in that download.  Now, not only can he hear your thoughts, but you can hear his too, if you want.”

Oh.  That makes sense, you guess.  You wonder why you never thought to do that before?  Instinctively, you clutch Dave to you tighter as the infant makes a small whine, bouncing him a bit until he falls back asleep.

“By now, you know the truth,” Bro says.  When he looks into the camera of his lenses, it’s like he’s looking at you.  “You’re me.  I’m you.  You just threw Jake into the fucking future.  And congratulations, because now you’re thinking life is about to start royally sucking.”

You swallow a thick lump out of your throat.  How does he always know?

“I know because I’m you, dipshit,” Bro smirks.  “And I might have all your memories recorded through AR, but I’ll get to that later.”

You’re about to question that, but suddenly Bro’s talking again. 

“You know I’ve never been one for coddling.  I never believed in that bullshit, and I’m not about to start now.  Life is going to be hard for you.  _Really_ hard. You and Dave were such bitches to raise, you know that?” Bro chuckles.  “But I promise you’re worth it in the end.”

“How?  I’m raising _myself_ ,” you say pointedly, finally realizing that Bro can probably respond to you.  If this entire conversation is written in AR’s databanks, you know that Bro can find a way to hack in and get it.

Bro doesn’t disappoint you.  “Yeah, it’s kind of weird at first, but you’ll get over it. Remember, you told Dirk you’re his Bro, and that’s who you are now.  You aren’t Dirk anymore.  _He’s_ Dirk.  He’s your little bro now, and you’d better take care of that little shit and love him to pieces or I swear I’m gonna find a way back there and kick your ass.”

He actually gets a chuckle out of you.  You don’t doubt he would.

“Damn straight,” Bro cracks a grin himself.  “Oh yeah, speaking of.  Prepare to get your straight on.  Cause you’re gonna be fucking her soon.”

You’re instantly taken back.  It’s too soon to be thinking those thoughts.  You just lost Jake.  And besides, even if you were attracted to women, which you aren’t, you _hate_ her. 

“Remember what I said?  She’ll help you,” Bro promises, his eyes growing grim.  “It won’t be easy. You don’t swing that way, I know.  Trust me, _I know_.  But you have two extra mouths to feed now, and believe me, they eat _a lot_.”

Something about what he said brings the whole situation back to the forefront of your mind.  It tears at you and rips your soul to pieces.  You actually wince, causing Dave to gurgle in his sleep just a bit and turn.  You know that Bro can hear what you think, but you can’t stop yourself from whispering, “what do I do, Bro?  I can’t be a parent.  I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a pretty shitty parent for a little while, but you’ll get the hang of it,” Bro agrees.  Then he actually smiles. “It’s all in the hugs.  Try it right now with Dave.  Remember, it’s gotta be skin to skin.”

You gaze down at the sleeping infant in your arms.  How are you supposed to feed him your energy?  You’ve never done anything like this before.  Slowly, you bring him to your chest, caressing his cheek with your thumb.  “Like this?”

“You’ll get better at it,” he reassures you.  “Now focus on his energy, and focus on yours.  And kind of imagine— pushing yours into him.  Like you’re pouring water into a glass.  The water is your energy and the glass is Dave’s soul.”

“Sounding a little creepy, Bro,” you murmur, but you decide to try it.  If you focus on it, you can feel Dave’s energy.  It’s bright and fiery red, swirling around the tiny soul inside him.  And you can feel the warmth of your own energy, the last bit that Jake gave you.  You want to cry, realizing that you’ll be giving away the last piece of him that you have left, but one, Striders don’t fucking cry, and two, no one deserves this energy more than Dave.

You imagine the pitcher filled with Jake’s energy, and the glass that is Dave’s soul.  Slowly, carefully, you pour it full.

Dave smiles and coos a little in his sleep, curling into the warmth of your chest and nuzzling his chubby baby cheek into your hand.

“See?  Knew you had it in you,” Bro says, a soft smile on his face.  “All right, lil’ man.  I’ve taught you about all I can.  Now it’s time for you to teach them.  Don’t worry, I’ve got the lessons all planned out for you.”

Before you can even ask, he gestures, and AR’s databanks come up into your view.  It’s filled with files of every day, starting with today.  It goes until… holy hell.  It goes until the day you left.

“That’s right.  Be impressed,” he says and grins. “It’s all there.  Everything from your first Strife to the time you and Jake first made out in my office.”

You _knew_ he recorded that!

“Fuck yeah I did,” Bro agrees.  “Now it’s all up to you, lil’ man.  Take care of those two, and remember, when things get hard, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.  And who knows?  Maybe I’ve got a video or two recorded for you through time.  Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

You smile sadly.  There’s nothing manly or Strider-like about it, but you don’t care.  It’s not like anyone can see you anyway.  “Bye Bro.  Thanks for everything.  Sorry I never got to tell you that in person.”

“You didn’t have to.  Telepath, remember?”  Bro shakes his head and says, “I’m gonna miss you lil’ man.  Take care of ‘em.  Peace.”

And with that, he’s gone.

Exhausted, you slowly sink down into the bed and fall into a troubled sleep.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Wake up** 

You wake up to the sound of crying.  You’re not certain how long it’s been, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been very long. According to your shades, it’s only been 3 hours and 23 minutes.

Quickly, you come to and realize that you’re still holding Dave, who is wailing in your arms.  You focus on him, using your incubus senses to feel what he’s feeling, and you sigh.

He’s hungry again.  Already.

You feed him your thumb again and decide that it’s a good thing you don’t need much sleep to function.  Carefully, you extract yourself from the bed, letting Dirk continue to sleep peacefully.  You walk to the window as Dave feeds and glance outside.

Derse is about the same as you remember it.  Everything is lit by a soft purplish glow.  Dark figures of normal Dersite residents move about in the streets below. Some are smaller and barely maintain their shadowy form.  Others are larger more formidable demons.  As you scan the streets below, you swear that one demon is looking at you.  You focus closer on the demon and gasp.

It’s Damara.  Her lips are curved into a malevolent smile as she looks straight up at you.  She can’t possibly know who you are yet.  Why the fuck is she looking at you?

Damara blows you a kiss and walks away.

You shiver and step away from the window.

You spend a day in that room, sleeping on and off between caring for your brothers.  Dirk eats the remainder of the dried fruit that he shoved into his pocket, and you continue to feed Dave your blood every now and then.  For the most part, Dirk keeps to himself, playing quietly with Lil’ Cal and conversing with him. 

Your thoughts are wrapped in Jake.  You sit in a very cozy cushioned chair in the corner of the room next to the bed and continue to mull over the decisions you made and actions you took yesterday.  Was there any other option? Could things have ended differently?  Could you have somehow kept Jake with you for these next thousand years?

But no matter how you look at things, no matter what angle you take, the result is always the same.  You can’t think of any other way it could have happened.

Eventually, you’re pulled from your own thoughts by Dirk, who comes over to sit in your lap.  There’s something a little bit off about him.  He’s moving slower, his thoughts are a bit hazier.  He’s still defiantly holding onto Lil’ Cal’s hand, but he’s dragging the puppet along the floor behind him, as if he doesn’t have the strength to pick it up.

“Bro,” he murmurs softly, clinging to your shirt.  “I feel funny.”

Oh shit.  What’s wrong with Dirk?  Is he sick somehow?  You don’t really remember being a sickly kid, but you guess it’s possible.

Hastily, you focus on Dirk, holding him closer to you as you feel him with your incubus senses.  What you find doesn’t surprise you at all.  In fact, you must be the most neglectful parent in the world to have missed it.

Dirk’s hungry.  You’d assumed that he would be fine since he ate the remainder of the fruit.  It would have been more than enough to keep you satisfied.

But Dirk isn’t you.  Not yet.  He’s barely three, and the incubus within him is famished.

“It’s ok, Dirk. I’ll make you better,” you murmur to him gently.  Carefully, you place Dave on the bed beside you and adjust Dirk in your lap.  You cradle him to you, hugging him tightly, pressing the bare skin of your arms to his and nuzzling your cheek against his forehead.

You feel for his energy, which you can now tell is extremely low.  Slowly, carefully, you pour yours into him.  You feel the warmth of it leaving you through your skin.  The first time you tried this, with Dave, you were so focused on not messing anything up that you didn’t notice that.

It takes you a few minutes to slowly syphon your energy into him, but when you finish, you decide that it’s completely worth it.

Dirk looks back up at you, the brightness renewed in his orange eyes.  He smiles at you and says, “all better!  Thanks, Bro!”

You pat him on the back and let him down, leaving him to play again with Lil’ Cal.

You’re glad that at least one of you feels better, because you certainly don’t.  You’re still having a hard time digesting the decision you made.  These kids are going to be your responsibility for the next thousand years.  It will be that long before you get to see Jake again.

Jake.  Jake Jake Jake Jake Jake...

You spend the remainder of the day wallowing in misery over your lost boyfriend.

It doesn’t take too much longer before everything about this room, everything about _Derse_ feels extremely confining.  You know that you can’t stay here forever.  You’ve got to get out of Derse.

You collect both of your brothers in your arms and make your way to the door.  For a second, you hesitate and look back at the top drawer.  The one with the locket.

With resignation, you turn around and leave.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Use the portal!** 

The Derse portal leads to a cozy forest glen.

The sun begins to set as you head south.  By the time you reach the small village buried deep in the woods, the light is waning over the horizon.  Wherever this place is, it has yet to be touched by the war.  For that you are extremely thankful. But you’re also a little leery.  Surely these people know that there is a war going on.

Will they actually accept three incubi into their village?  Somehow, you don’t think the chances of that happening are very high.  Maybe you can put a couple people under your influence for a day or two, but you’ll have to figure out something else in the long-run. 

The sun fully sets, and you’re still standing outside in the cold with your two brothers.  By some stroke of luck, Dave has slept the whole way.  Dirk is surprisingly calm, though he clings tightly to Lil’ Cal.

“Bro, what are you doing?” Dirk asks, looking up at you curiously.  “You have been standing here for five minutes.”

“Yeah, I’ll get on that,” you murmur, kicking up your courage a notch and walking up to the first cottage.  Huh.  No windows.  You find it a little odd, but you aren’t about to knock the craftsmanship of someone who you hope will take you in for the night.

You shift a bit from one leg to the other, debating whether you should put Dirk down or not.  If the people are hostile, you may need to flash-step away.  Better not.

Instead, you ask him, “hey, lil’ man.  Think you can knock on this door for me?”

Dirk eyes you in a decidedly incredulous manner and responds, “of course.”  Lightly, he pounds on the door a few times with his full fist.

You’re not sure if the people heard him or not.  It was so quiet, that maybe—

The door swings open, and relief immediately floods you.

Standing sleepily at the front of the door yawning is Porrim.  She holds a hand to her mouth and murmurs between a yawn, “who are you?  What do you want at this hour?  It’s so early, damn.”

You grin. You have missed Porrim.  You’re about to answer her as usual when, again, you remember that Porrim never called Bro anything but Bro.  Also, Porrim doesn’t technically know you yet.

This is starting to get really tiring.  Fortunately, you know Porrim, and you know what will make her take you three in for the night.  Possibly longer.

“The name’s Bro Strider,” you answer, nodding your head to her.  “As you can see, I have two small defenseless children.  We are war-orphans, and we don’t have anywhere to stay for the night.  Might we stay the night with you?”

You can feel her motherly heart begin to melt.  She opens the door to you.  “I’m Porrim Maryam, but just call me Porrim.  Please, come inside. Those poor children must be freezing cold!”

“Yes, they are,” you agree. “And they could really benefit from some strong womanly input in their lives.  Don’t you agree Dirk?”

Dirk doesn’t know the game you’re playing at, but he pouts and murmurs quietly, “I miss mom.”

Fuck, now you feel bad for using him.  You hold him a little tighter and promise him, “Bro’s never going to leave you, ok?  Never.”

Dirk still looks sadly at you, but he nods and clings to you closer.

“You poor dear,” Porrim simpers, opening her door even wider. “Do come in.”

The interior of Porrim’s home is decorated quite fashionably.  There are interesting colorful rugs splashed about the floors and walls.  Glass pieces that look to be blown and twisted into intricate shapes adorn the walls.  The house is lit by candle and torchlight.  As you observed from outside, there are no windows.

But, of course, you wouldn’t expect any less from a vampire.

“So I’m a vampire,” Porrim says, as if she plucked the thought from your head. You don’t _think_ she has that ability, but you aren’t going to put it past her.  She turns to you and grins toothily.  “But I think you figured that one out.”

“Yes,” you agree. “If you require sustenance for providing us shelter, I can—”

“Pffft, no,” she waves you off, moving about and starting a wood fire in the hearth.  “Why would I take your blood when there’s a whole village full of perfectly good mortals nearby?  Bro, I’m afraid you will just have to accept my hospitality.”

You smirk back at her.  You’re remembering now why you always got along with Porrim. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.  Now, you know what I am.  The kid’s eyes are orange, so obviously you aren’t human either,” Porrim notes.  “What are you?”

“I’m an incubus,” you respond, settling down on top of a couple rugs by the fireplace.  “So are the kids.”

“You’re an incubus?” She asks, an odd expression on her face.  “Well, Mr. Incubus, you better not be here for a meal, because you’ve definitely come to the wrong house.”

You chuckle softly.  You remember Porrim’s preference for women.  “I would never ask that of you.  I just fed yesterday,” you murmur, thinking of Jake.  Your heart wrenches, and you have to stop thinking about him right now.  “Besides, I happen to like men.”

“Oh do you? Well that’s convenient. I don’t have to worry about you laying a finger on Kanaya,” Porrim says, sitting down in front of the hearth, across from you.  She glances behind her and calls out, “Kanaya!  Come out and say hi to our guests!”

Kanaya somehow seems to materialize out of the wall.  Her unique style of clothing blends in perfectly with the interesting decorative cloths hanging on the walls.  The girl looks exactly the same as you remember her.  She’s quieter than you recall though, and timid.  Slowly she takes a few steps forward.  She pauses a few paces away from the wall, and you can see the hesitancy and uncertainty in her eyes.  Then, she quickly dashes forward, landing next to Porrim on the rug and partially hiding behind her.

Porrim laughs and pats the girl’s arm.  “Kanaya, it’s ok. No need to worry about these guys.  They’re demons like us.”

“They drink blood?” Kanaya asks softly, in a voice so quiet that it’s almost a whisper.

“No, they drink sex,” Porrim corrects her.  Sort of. She flicks her jade green gaze over at you and says, “well, Bro, I’d consider myself a good judge of character.  I can tell that you’re a good guy and that you and these children of yours truly have nowhere else to go.  You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.  I only have one request.”

“What is it?” you ask, silently hoping that she won’t change her mind and ask for your blood too.  You aren’t sure how much you can give with Dave feeding from you every few hours.

Porrim’s gaze focuses on the blades strapped to your back.  “Teach Kanaya how to fight.  Can you do that?”

A small grin slowly spreads on your face.  “Of course.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Skip ahead** 

Before you realize it, a week has gone by.  Porrim helps you take care of both Dirk and Dave.  In return, you start teaching both Kanaya and Dirk how to fight.  Letting two small children fight with your swords probably isn’t the safest idea you’ve ever had, but you roll with it.

Thanks to their demonic strength, the heaviness of the blades never poses a problem to either child.  Both seem to break out of their quiet shells rather quickly, and before you know it, they’re stabbing each other.  Aww.

Porrim tisks the first time they come back with their clothes all bloodied.  “Didn’t I tell you to wear black, Kanaya?  That’s never going to come out.”

To heal Dirk, you have to give him your blood.  Knowing how much you despise it, you try to think up stealthy ways to sneak it to him at first, but you quickly give up and settle for the tried-and-true Bro method.  Dirk pouts every time you hand him a glass filled with your blood, but a stern look or two is all it takes to make him comply. 

He drinks it.  He stays healthy and alive.  That’s all that matters.

But it doesn’t come without consequences.  Losing your blood to both Dirk and Dave quickly makes _you_ feel the effects of blood-loss.  Porrim notices immediately.

“Looks like you need to feed,” she remarks one evening.  You’re too weak to refuse her.

Porrim leads the way to a village not too far away.  You both watch as Kanaya snacks on a few mortals, gently removing their memories of the encounter and healing their wounds so that she doesn’t leave a trace.

“I’m so proud of her,” Porrim sighs, grinning at you.  “Well, go on.  I’ll watch the kids while you’re busy.”

A strangely apprehensive feeling knots up in your chest.  With it comes embarrassment and shame.  “I’ve never done this before,” you murmur quietly.

Porrim’s eyes widen as she looks at you.  “Seriously?  How have you been feeding all these years?  Were you served in a gilded chalice?”

“Just a plain cup, actually,” you admit.

It takes her a moment, but eventually she softly mutters, “you’re not kidding are you.  Shit.”  She covers her face in her hands and groans for a couple seconds.  Finally she looks up at you and says, “all right, guess I’d better show you the ropes.”

Since you already have experience charming people, finding and luring your mortal victims is simple.  It’s the actual blood drinking part that you find kind of gross.  Porrim practically shouts at you the first couple times to do it. It takes a while, but eventually you get better at finding the veins beneath the skin.  At forcing your sharp incisor teeth to lengthen in your mouth and using them to lightly puncture the skin, drawing blood.

The first time, you balk as the warm thick liquid touches your tongue, and you allow copious amounts of it to pool out of the mortal’s body and pour down his neck.  Porrim sweeps in quickly and makes sure that none of the blood touches his clothing or is wasted.  “Don’t hesitate!  You can’t change your mind.  You have to commit and _do it!_ ” she growls at you.

It takes you several tries, but eventually, you start to get the hang of it.  By the end of the night, she seems about as raggedly tired as you are, but you’re all fed and good to go.

As you stand by your final victim, a fit male that appears to be in his late twenties, you feel something within you inexplicably drawn to him.  And then you realize it. You’ve been feeding Dave and Dirk your energy all week without replacing it.  And you’re _hungry_.

Your incubus side wants to feed too.

You hesitate.  A year ago you would have had no qualms about bedding this man.  But now—

You can’t. You can’t betray Jake’s memory like this. 

“Something the matter?” Porrim asks, eyeing you with concern.

“No, nothing,” you murmur. You finish wiping the man’s memories and walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is starting to get hard for Dirk/Bro! I'm just curious, how many of you would like to see all (or most) of the shit that Dirk goes through at this point in his life? There are a few key scenes that I will absolutely be writing, but there is a lot more that I'm honestly not certain I'll put in the story. Sometimes less is more, after all.
> 
> So I'll put it to you, dear readers! On a scale of 1-10, 1 being as little as possible and 10 being a fucking novel, how much of Bro's agony at this point in his life do you want to see? Review, comment, ask, PM, email, Skype, whatever your answer please!


	20. The First Year

**Dirk == > Survive**

You’re good at surviving.  It’s what you were born to do, you swear.

But after the next two days of diligently feeding both Dirk and Dave your energy and blood, you get your second transmission from your older brother.  AKA: future you.  You’re still not really sure how to take that.

“Hey, lil’ man, don’t tell me you’re doing something _fucking retarded_ again,” Bro says, coming up in your vision as you watch Kanaya and Dirk spar in the forest outside 

“I’m taking care of these kids,” you murmur back to him, remembering that he can respond to you across time.  You know he can probably hear your thoughts through AR, just like he always has, but nobody is listening to you anyway.

“Yeah?  Well how’re you gonna take care of those kids if you don’t take care of yourself?” Bro asks pointedly.

You don’t grace him with a response.  After a while, you hear him sigh.

“Look, I know you love Jake.  I—” Bro pauses, and you wonder if he’s actually going to say it.  “I love him too.”

He said it.  Holy fuck he said it.

“Yeah, I said it.  It’s true.  I fucking love Jake to pieces,” Bro says, and though you know he must be feeling extremely emotional about it, he doesn’t show it at all. 

You marvel at his amazing Strider skills.

“That’s right, you’ve still got work to do before you’re half as cool as me,” he agrees.  Then, he sighs and continues. “But that wasn’t my point.  The point is, I know you love Jake and don’t want to be with anyone else.  But you are an incubus.  You need sex to live.  Those children are incubi too.  They also need your affection, or they won’t live.  If you die, they die.  You know what that means you have to do.”

You take a deep breath and sigh it out slowly.  Yes. Unfortunately you do know.

“You could go out every night and snack on some mortals or other demons, but with those kids to feed, you’ll need to do it EVERY night.  Sometimes multiple times a night,” Bro waves his hand offhandedly. “And I know you’re gonna try it anyway, because I did.  So go ahead.  Try it.  See how hard it is.  When you feel like you’re at the end of your rope, go back to her.”

Wait.   _Her?_   As in Her Imperious Condescension?  Fuck no.

“Fuck yes,” he responds, folding his arms across his chest and staring pointedly at you.  “The Condesce will never get tired of you. I don’t know why the fuck she won’t, but she won’t.  And the energy that you’ll get from her is 1,000 times stronger than any you’ll get from a mortal or another demon.  You’ll only need it every couple weeks or so.  Less, once Dirk and Dave are old enough to get it themselves.”

You don’t really know what to say to him.  You kind of always suspected this shit was true, but you didn’t want to believe it.  You still don’t want to believe it.  Bro’s probably right, he’s always fucking right, but you aren’t ready for this yet.

Instead, you bring up something else that’s been on your mind.  Quietly, you ask, “why didn’t you tell me?  Why didn’t you tell me that this was going to happen?”

“Because the decisions you made had to be your own,” he says. Sighing, he takes off his cap and rakes a hand through his hair.  But rather than replace it on his head, he sets the hat on the table with the shades that are recording the transmission.  “And you’re a stubborn fuck just like me.  You’d have done things the exact same way even if I told you.”

You look at him.  _Really_ look at him.  And it’s almost like looking in a mirror.  His hair is mussed from being shoved under a cap, his eyes are tired, and you’re pretty sure you don’t own that particular white dress shirt.  And you’ve never popped the collar like that before.

But all of those things aside, he’s you.  The way he averts his eyes, that are usually hidden behind his shades, while in thought.  The gentle yet concerned way he looks at you.  Even the way he’s folding his arms across his chest.

You realize you’re doing that right now, as you watch Kanaya land a stab on Dirk.  Defiantly, you unfold your arms and place them at your side.

“Too late to not be me,” Bro says with a bitter chuckle.  “You already chose this path.  Time to commit to it.  You can start by feeding yourself.  Fucking hell, I thought you were over this emo shit.”

“I am,” you say with a sigh.  “I’ll do it.  But I’m not going back to her anytime soon.”

Bro raises his hands in the air.  “Suit yourself, lil’ man. Just remember that she’s there.  When you’re at your wit’s end, you know where to go.”

“Yeah? It’s going to take a long time before that happens,” you promise him.

It does.

That very night, you begin feeding your incubus urges again.  You spend longer in the village at night, and you are thankful that Porrim is around to watch Dirk and Dave while you’re gone.

You don’t know how you would have made it through that first few months without her.

Porrim and Kanaya become like sisters to you.  You find out that Porrim is a couple centuries old, but Kanaya is relatively young.  The two aren’t related, but Porrim couldn’t resist taking in the orphaned Kanaya a year ago. 

The village that they live in is small and consists of several other vampire families that you slowly become acquainted with in time.  You never say more than the typical pleasantries because you don’t have time to.  You don’t have time to because Bro was right.

Bro’s always fucking right.

As time passes, Dirk and Dave need _more_ of your energy than before.  Physically, mentally, and literally. 

Dirk and Kanaya are slowly becoming more proficient with swordfighting, but that doesn’t mean that they stab each other any less.  If anything, the injuries they give each other are _worse_ than before.  This means Dirk needs even more of your blood.

Meanwhile, Dave begins crawling and moving around at record speed.  You didn’t think babies were even supposed to be turning over until 4 months, and yet, Dave is already crawling and getting into trouble at 3 months.  His favorite pastime is crawling into the fireplace, getting soot all over himself, and tracking it all over the house.  You swear he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing and how much it annoys you.  Little shit.

It isn’t long before both Dave _and Dirk_ begin waking you up at night.  Dave with his need to feed and Dirk with his nightmares.  You’re actually a little surprised that the nightmares didn’t start sooner.  You do distinctly remember having them.  Unfortunately, there isn’t much you can do for him.  Much as you hesitate to put him under your influence every night, it’s starting to sound like a better option.  But every time you contemplate it, you remember Rose’s look of disapproval. 

You refrain from using any of your dark abilities on Dirk.  You won’t do that again unless you really have to.  Instead, you hold him when he comes to you with his nightmares.  You gently stroke his hair and tell him it will be all right until he falls back asleep.

As for you, life becomes increasingly more difficult.  You find yourself feeding more than you ever have.  You’d forgotten how little energy mortals give you.  Jake’s bright viridian energy was always so filling, and it provided you with more than enough to get by for weeks on end.  But the mortals are an entirely different story.  You discover that you have to seduce two mortals per night just to be able to feed your brothers, let alone yourself.  By the end of the night, you have often fed from three or four different lovers.

And you hate to think of them as that, because you know that you will truly only have one lover again that you truly love.  Every time you lay with someone else, you think of Jake.  Of his bright green eyes.  His soft charismatic smile.  The way he touched you. Pleasured you.  Loved you.

Suddenly, every time you lay with another, it’s agony.  You feed because you have to, but you find no pleasure in the act.  Quite the opposite, you begin to hate and resent that you need to do this to keep living.  You can’t take that every night you spend hours giving your body to someone who isn’t Jake.

You can’t keep it up.  You can’t.

And that’s how you find yourself back in Derse, alone while Porrim watches your brothers.  You are full of doubts and uncertainties every step of your walk through Derse’s castle, but your feet resolutely bring you to the throne room.  Left with no other options, you push open the doors.

Her Imperious Condescension grins at you when you enter, her smile wider than you think you have ever seen it.  “Changed your mind, Bro?  Have you come to work for me?”

You don’t answer her until you have walked up to the throne.  You have a hard time even looking at her.  “I’ll do what has to be done.  This war must end.  And—”

She laughs, deep and long.  The Condesce’s eyes narrow in a predatory manner as she murmurs, “I know what’s _really_ brought you here.  I’ve been watchin’ you.  Waitin’ until you came back to me.”

Every muscle in your body feels tense.  On edge.  On fire.  And not in a good way.  You’ve never felt this way before when it came to sex.  Not even your first time.

You wonder if it’s because you’ve never had sex with a woman.  Or maybe it’s because there’s something that you fundamentally _hate_ about the Condesce, despite the fact that she’s never truly done a thing to you.

“Good, the less explaining I have to do, the better,” you finally say.  “But—I don’t know if I can—”

Your voice trails away in your own uncertainty. It’s extremely unlike you, but fortunately, the Condesce doesn’t seem to care.

“Oh Bro, don’t you think I know?  I told you, I’ve been watchin’ you.  I’ve seen how much you love _men_ ,” she murmurs.  Slowly, fluidly, the Condesce rises from her throne.  In a way that is surprisingly gentle, she places a hand on your cheek.  “But fortunately, I know a thing or two about you incubi.”

You don’t say anything.  Your body tenses at her touch. 

“And I happen to know one very _very_ important thing,” she says, slowly leaning in and wrapping her arms around your frame, trapping your arms to your side.  Her Imperious Condescension leans into your body, her hot pink painted lips next to your ear as she whispers something that makes your skin crawl.

“Your pleasure doesn’t matter.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Fast Forward** 

With the Condesce’s energy, you’re easily able to provide for yourself and your brothers.  Life actually begins to become easier, for a change.  Kanaya and Dirk are both progressing with their swordsmanship skills nicely, though they still have a long way to go.

The Condesce surprises you one day when she throws two smaller swords your way.  They happen to be the perfect sizes for Kanaya and Dirk.  It’s no coincidence, and she never explains herself.  She surprises you with gifts like that sometimes.  Another time she gave you perfectly cut triangle sunglasses for Dave and Dirk that are just like yours.

You never thought about where your shades came from.  Over time, you modified them, made them your own super-computer, and added AR to them.  You noticed that they adjusted easily to your modifications, never broke, and never overheated despite the energy demands that you placed on them.  You never thought to ask Bro where they originated from or why the metal was so perfectly adaptable. 

Now you know.  Time period rules are not necessarily applicable to Derse.  You remember that the Condesce possessed an entire warship that she rode around the galaxy before landing at Derse.  The materials making up your shades are probably more advanced than what is available even in your future time.  Derse technology does make you salivate with the desire to tinker with it all, but you have to quell your wants until the kids are grown up. 

Everything you do is for Dirk and Dave.  Your time, blood, sex—everything.

Though the Condesce never mistreats you, you still hate the things that you have to do with her.  You’re embarrassed by the marks she purposely leaves on your skin.  Even though with others they would quickly heal, when _she_ leaves passionate red teeth and nail marks, they last longer than you would like.

You’ve taken to wearing long sleeved shirts at all times, even in the heat of the summer.  You don’t want Dirk seeing the bites and scratches on you or questioning where they came from.

You wear the orange scarf Jake gave you all the time.  Not only does it hide the Condesce’s marks, but it reminds you of Jake.  That there is hope at the end of the tunnel.  It may be a fucking 1000 year long tunnel, but someday it will end.

Dave continues to progress far more quickly than you think is normal.  Within a year, he is already running into the walls and furniture, climbing up the stairs, ripping down all of Porrim’s wall decorations within reach, and biting everything.  And you mean _everything._   No person, plant, or piece of furniture is safe from his tiny little teeth.

Dave is _such_ a little shit.

He bites hard enough to draw blood, but he never seems interested in it afterwards.  Oddly, he does still accept your wrist when you offer it to him.  You wonder if he has started to see you as his mother, and your thumb as his own personal milking teat.  You shudder at the thought and resolve to never think it again.  As soon as this kid is old enough, you’ll be “Bro” to him and nothing else.

As Dave has grown, the amount of your blood that he needs to drink has increased.  Your fingers are no longer sufficient, so you have taken to neatly nicking a vein or two in your wrist for his meals.

This child is going to bleed you dry.  You can’t wait until he can start eating regular food.

Meanwhile, Dirk continues to progress into the precocious little kid that you remember being.  He’s far too smart for his age, and he quickly realizes that he doesn’t care to talk to other kids his age.  Kanaya is the only exception, and you have a feeling it’s because he views her as a sister. 

There aren’t many around, but you’ve tried to get him to interact with some of the vampire children in the village.  He never does. 

On occasion, you have brought him to the park in the center of the mortal village, but the result is always the same.  When you sit on the wooden bench overlooking the children playing in the park, Dirk is content to follow you.  He sits beside you and plays with Lil’ Cal on his own.  He refuses to interact with the other children.

Dave, however, has no reserves.  After having to wipe the memories of his bites from several children on multiple occasions, you learn that it isn’t worth it to bring the little monster to the park with you.  Not until he is older.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Skip ahead a year** 

It’s December the first, and you find yourself sitting on the park bench with Dirk while he quietly plays with Lil’ Cal.  It’s been a year since you were thrown into the past.  A year since you met your parents and Dirk.

You gaze at Dirk, and your lips pull into a small frown.  He’s taller than before.  He’s stronger and more capable.  He’s everything you remember being.

But he isn’t smiling anymore.  You don’t know when you saw him smile last.  What happened to the happy little kid that laughed so freely, jumped on top of your mother’s kitchen table, climbed your father, screamed with joy, and laughed with that open-mouthed smile and the happiest brightest orange eyes—

You stop when you feel a single tear roll down your cheek.  You know what’s happened to Dirk.

He’s become you.  The kid that you remember being.

Parentless.  Lonely.  Miserable as fuck.

But you remember that it isn’t always this way.  It gets to the point that Bro and Dave are the only family you need.  That all you really remember of your parents are shadows of the past.  Shadows that can’t hurt you anymore.

But how do you get to that point? How do you get Dirk to think more about the present and not dwell so much on the past?  What will keep him in _this_ moment, on his toes, actively thinking about the _here_ and _now_ and not about the past?

Suddenly it hits you, and it’s so obvious that you don’t know how you didn’t think of it before.  You know what you need to do.

You turn to Dirk and rest a hand on his shoulder.  When he looks up at you curiously, you tell him in a very serious tone, “today is a very important day for you, lil’ man.  Today you will be fully initiated into the Strider family.”

“I don’t understand what’cha mean,” he murmurs.  Dirk scrunches his forehead a bit, and you can hear the confusion in his thoughts.  “Thought I’m already a Strider?”

Dirk has long since picked up your way of speaking, for better or worse.  You actually think it’s a little cute when he draws his words out at times into a thick relaxed southern accent.  That is, until you realize he must have learned it from you, which means that _you’ve_ been doing it a lot.

Damn.  Time loops are hard on the soul.

“You’re not really a Strider until you’ve experienced this,” you tell him sternly, rising from the bench.  “Stand in front of me and take out your katana.”

He still looks confused, but he does as told.  After carefully situating Lil’ Cal on the bench, he hops onto the ground.  Slowly, he draws the katana that you’ve told him to keep on him at all times.

“Hold it up,” you tell him.

Uncertainly, he does so.

“Perfect,” you say, grinning in anticipation. “Now you’re ready for your first—” 

In the blink of an eye, you pull out your own katana and fluidly swing it forward in an arc.  It clashes loudly with Dirk’s blade, startling him and the other children in the park.  “—STRIFE!” you finish.

Dirk gasps and does his best to parry your moves, but let’s face it.  The kid’s only three.  It isn’t long before he falls to the ground from the force of one of your strikes.  You think you actually see fear in his eyes as you plunge your blade towards his head.

You drive the sharp katana into the ground right beside his ear.

He’s breathing quickly and sweating from the surprise attack.  His eyes are wide behind his sunglasses, which are jarred crooked on his face from falling onto his back.  “Bro, what the fuck was that?”

Oh yeah.  Dirk might have picked up your swearing too.  You can just see Rose frowning at you from the great beyond, but it’s hard enough raising two incubus children.  You’re not going to change the way you speak too.  Thankfully, neither Porrim nor Kanaya seem to care.

“ _That_ was a strife,” you answer, kneeling beside him and pulling your blade from the ground.  “Expect a lot more of them in the future.  I warned you to have your sword ready because this was the first time.  Next time I won’t.”

“You’re gonna _attack me_ outta _nowhere_?” Dirk asks incredulously.

“Yeah, that’s the gist of it,” you agree.

“But why?” he asks, whining and complaining like the 3 year old he is.  He’ll get over it.  “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“All a part of your training,” you respond, standing and helping him up.  “You’re almost four.  You’re old enough to strife.”

“So you’re gonna do this to Dave when he’s four too?”  Dirk asks.

You think about it.  “Maybe sooner.  He’s such a little shit.”

For the first time in a while, Dirk cracks a small smile.  “Yeah he is.  He bit me again this morning.”

“Only once?” you ask, adding a note of surprise to your tone.

“Three times before I could get him off me,” Dirk replies crossly.

“He’ll get better eventually,” you promise, chuckling.  As you begin to leave the park, you realize that you might have attracted a bit of an audience with your little display.  Several children and parents are looking curiously your way.  But after quickly scanning their thoughts, you realize that none of them suspect that you are an incubus. 

They all just think you’re a deranged and terrible parent. 

Thank fucking goodness.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Do something AWESOME for you lil’ bros’ birthdays like you planned!**

Yeah.  About that. 

It’s December the third and you don’t really have anything planned.  You don’t even have a present for either of your brothers, and nothing upsets you more, because DAMNIT you wanted this to be a special happy day for them!

You remember the terror that was their last birthday, and you’re certain that Dirk does too.  It’s a memory that you’re not sure you could pull from him now even if you tried.  You’re not even sure if you can do anything to lessen his pain.  Time, you think, will be his only remedy.

Dave seems blissfully unaware that today has any meaning at all.  That is, until he runs into Dirk.

As usual, Porrim and Kanaya are sleeping during the day, and you are sitting in the living room on a chair in the corner.  Dirk is quietly playing with Lil’ Cal by the fireplace, and he seems completely oblivious to the fact that Dave is stealthily sneaking up on him from behind.

Dave is surprisingly quiet, which actually makes him even more of a terror.  You never know he’s done something until it’s already long done.  And so, Dirk isn’t suspecting anything as Dave slowly walks up behind him.

You decide not to alert Dirk to anything.  The kid has to learn to watch his back anyway.  Dave quietly toes over to him, opening his mouth wide to bite the exposed skin of his brother’s shoulder.  His tiny little teeth gleam in the light, and he looks WAY too happy for a one year old who is about to attack his brother.

But suddenly, Dave stops.  He sits down on the floor and starts choking.  Concerned, you flash-step over to him and lift him up into your arms.  Your eyes widen with what you see.

Tears.  Dave is crying.  You quickly poke into his thoughts and his feelings, but Dave isn’t hurt.  He isn’t even sad.  Why is he—

Slowly, your gaze falls on Dirk.  With a heavy heart, you plunge into his thoughts.

_—miss them. I miss them so fucking much. Mommy, Daddy, why did you have to die?  Why did you have to leave us all alone?  Didn’t I love you enough? I tried to love you enough.  Why did you have to die?  Why? **Why???**_

You can’t believe such heavy thoughts are coming from Dirk.  On the outside, he isn’t even crying. He’s just holding Lil’ Cal, turning him around in his hands and moving his puppet arms and legs around. 

Dirk holds one arm up, and lets it fall.

_Mommy._  

He holds the other arm up, and lets it fall.

_Daddy._

He stares into Lil’ Cal’s eyes with a look that is as empty and soulless as the puppet’s.

Before he can think any more of those thoughts, you sweep him up into a hug.  You feed him your love and fill him with as much happiness as you can.  “Don’t ever think you didn’t love them enough.  You are _not_ the reason our parents died, Dirk,” you tell him solemnly.  “They died to protect us from Lord English.  They died because they loved you so much and didn’t want to see _you_ die.  And now you have us.  You have me and Dave.  And we’re never going to leave you.  Ever.”

Dirk curls into your embrace, wraps his arms around your neck and clings tightly to you.  “Promise, Bro?”

“Promise,” you murmur, ruffling his hair. “And Striders keep their promises.”

Thankfully, even though you epic fail Dave’s first birthday, Dirk’s fourth, and your number that shall not be mentioned, Porrim doesn’t.

She has put together a delightful picnic that you five take to a Cliffside outlooking the sea far away.  You may have used a couple of Derse’s portals to get there. 

Dirk is thrilled to see the ocean for the first time, even if it is at night.  You’ll have to remember to take him here sometime during the day so that he can fully appreciate the scenery and the waves.

Dave is eating the grass.  You remember your mother saying not to feed him cow’s milk until he turned a year old.  You wonder if it’s ok for him to eat other things after a year?  Hesitantly you hand him a tiny piece of cheese.

Dave makes a happy sound and devours the cheese.  He holds his little hands out to you, opening and closing his fingers to show that he wants more.

Well, what could it hurt? You tear apart a block of cheese into small bits and place them on a cloth in front of your baby brother.  Dave eats all the pieces, laughs with delight, and then falls quickly into a gentle post-food sleep.

Happy Birthday to you.  The kid won’t bleed you dry after all.

After Dirk and Kanaya go off to explore the area nearby, Porrim finally turns to you and says, “Bro, I think it’s time you and I ended this war.”

At first, you are confused.  You’ve only been on friendly terms with Porrim.  She’s practically a sister to you now.  You’ve never been at “war” with her.

It takes you a moment to realize that she is talking about the war between humans and immortals.  Even though you are seeing the Condesce regularly, she has yet to give you any assignments.  She probably knows that you won’t do them with Dirk and Dave so young and helpless.  And you’re almost positive that she has said nothing to avoid babysitting again.

“Kanaya is old enough to watch both Dirk and Dave in our absence,” Porrim continues.  “Despite Lord English’s death, the war has only grown worse in the last year.  Have you heard, the fairies even isolated themselves from the rest of the world recently?”

“Oh,” you respond quietly.  Damn.  You hadn’t realized that the fairies withdrew into their little forest this year.  If you had ended the war sooner, could you have changed that?  Would life be easier for Dave and John in the future?

No, you can’t think about those things.  Things happened this way for a reason.  If the fairies never separated from the rest of the world, what are the chances that John would have found someone else?  He may have never met your brother.  Dave could have ended up alone.

Like you.

“Hey, Strider, are you still in there?” Porrim asks, bringing you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding your head.  “Yeah.  I think you’re right.  We should end it.”

You do.

It is tedious work quelling the war.  It involves stealthily killing far more “key players” than you would like.  That includes both humans and demons.

The Condesce is ruthless in her declarations of who must die, but you want the world to be one that is safe for your brothers to live in.  You want the war to end.

And so you kill.  Again and again.  You’ve had plenty of experience extinguishing the life of demons from your work at Haven, but you’ve never killed a human before.  You never even considered that humans could be jeopardizing the safety of the mortal realm too, because Bro never made you kill them.

But now you’re starting to wonder.  Bro didn’t tell you a lot of things.  More than you suspected.  If humans have to die in this war, will they have to die in the future too?  When Bro—when _you_ —eventually create Haven?

It’s something you really don’t want to think about.  You’ve worked all your life to protect humans, and killing them has never crossed your mind.  But now, it’s something you can’t ignore anymore.  The Condesce is adamant that it must happen.

You think you wouldn’t have had the resolve to kill your first human without Porrim at your side, reassuring you in a cold yet sympathetic way that this is how it must be.

You do it for Dirk and Dave.

And finally, two months later, the Condesce grins when you come to her for your next assignment.  “War’s over,” she tells you, her voice a bit more amused than usual.  She holds out her glowing sphere for you to see. “We won.”

You both look into the depths of her magical sphere and she shows you village after village.  Some are demon villages, others are human.  Some are destroyed, and others are yet untouched.

All is at rest.  There is no more war.

And yet, you can’t shake the feeling that you haven’t really won.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, the fast forwarding has begun! Thank you so much to everyone who replied with input and thoughts about “Bro’s Agony” levels! That REALLY did help. The general consensus was to show some detail but not too much. Because we’re all missing Jake.
> 
> Several of you suggested putting the extra chapters in a separate story. As much as I would like to do that, look at my penname, folks. I chose it for a reason. I am, unfortunately, a slacker, and I have doubts about actually writing those chapters later. Regardless, I agree that this story might seem bloated if I add too much to this part. So, after this chapter, I’ll be adding “key scenes” that I’ve planned for a while. With any luck, we’ll get to the “present day” and the end of this story soon. 
> 
> After finishing this story, I’d really like to write a Dave/John story featuring some of the events in Hopeless and Heartless, from their points of view. Love those two. I feel a little bad that they’ve been neglected this long.
> 
> Long author’s notes this chapter, oops! Apparently I don’t know the meaning of the word “short.” Wanted to give you all a heads-up that updates will likely be delayed for a little while. The upcoming chapter is going to be difficult to write. And I might also have some finals that I’ve neglected to study for as much as I should have.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading up to this point! Your thoughts and comments are appreciated! =)
> 
> Next chapter ==> JAKE!


	21. Heart's Vacation

**Dirk == > Jake** 

About goddamned time.

How long have you waited for this moment? To finally be reunited with him?  A millennia?  Two?  Three?  A million?  It feels like forever.

Jake smiles at you when you throw your arms around him.  He laughs when you lift him into the air and spin him around like a cheesy Hollywood film.

“Fucking hell, Jake,” you murmur, finally bringing him down so that you can embrace him tightly.  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

He’s so warm.  And he smells so damned _good_.

Jake Jake Jake.  Your Jake.  Finally, all yours.

Jake sighs softly, murmuring your name as he grips the back of your hair tightly in that possessive way of his.  You hiss, but you feel the passion of his kiss as he captures your lips with his.

And suddenly, Dirk is climbing into your arms. 

What?

“Bro, I had that dream again,” he murmurs, his voice shaken as he curls up in the pile of blankets with you.

You finally come to, realizing that you’re in the corner of the bedroom you share with your brothers in Porrim’s house.  Jake is nowhere to be seen.

As always, he was just a dream.

“Yeah,” you murmur, holding him tightly.  “Yeah, me too.”

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Sleep** 

As a kid, you remember having the nightmares.  Horrible frightening things with ghostly figures chased you. Wicked sharp teeth, and a horrible dark pulsing evil that had no face and no body, only a name.  The most frightening name of all.

Lord English.

Now, you have to watch Dirk have the same nightmares.  He’s had them since shortly after you started caring for him, but for some reason, they seem worse now than before.  Now, an entire two years later, Dirk wakes you with his nightmares more than ever before.  You can always expect them a couple times a week, but on bad weeks, he wakes you every night.

There are a couple reasons you don’t mind that Dirk comes to you, curls up in the pile of blankets that you’ve claimed as yours on the floor, and sleeps the nightmares away by your side.  First, you’re glad that you can give him some comfort. The other reason is slightly less than altruistic.

When he comes to you, he wakes you from your nightmares too.  But your nightmares are an entirely different sort.

Logically, you know it isn’t possible, but your heart tells you otherwise every time you see him.  Something within you always swells like a big balloon, and you’re just so fucking pathetically happy to see him that you don’t care how he’s there.  After a while, you stop recognizing and caring that they’re dreams.

Jake’s here.  He’s smiling at you in that adorable way of his, holding his hand out to you from afar, beckoning you closer.  Without hesitation, you walk toward him, but you don’t seem to be getting any closer.

Oh—is he naked?  Win.  You’ve been waiting so long for him, just getting by with the bare minimum from the Condesce.  You’ve missed Jake.  You’ve missed him.

“ _Dirk_ ,” he says, suddenly beside you.  His warm arms come around you, pull you closer, pull you _into_ _him_.

He’s so warm, and alive, and he’s _here_ and nothing is ever going to bring you apart again.

Except reality.

When Dirk wakes you from these nightmares you feel deep sorrow and sadness but also a gnawing guilt for even having them in the first place.  You care about Jake more than just as a piece of meat, and you’re repulsed that you only seem to think about him in your dreams with your incubus instincts.  It’s better that Dirk wakes you up.  It’s better that you don’t continue to sully your memories of Jake.

Feeding from the Condesce is almost second nature to you by now.  Despite the marks she leaves, the Condesce doesn’t really hurt you.  But you don’t feel any pleasure from it.  Feeding from her pleasure is like forcing bland sludge-like slop down your throat. 

But the energy that she gives you is immense.  Dirk and Dave both require more of your energy as the days pass by, but you still only need to visit her about once every other week.  The arrangement, the lack of pleasure, the apathy—it couldn’t be more perfect.

Because you’ve decided that you won’t allow yourself that pleasure anymore.  Not until you get Jake back.

And you will.  In 1000 more years, you will.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > JAKE** 

Fuck do you want to.  Every night you have the nightmares now.  Gorgeous nightmares of the most beautiful man you know and love with your entire heart.  Your entire being.  Your everything.

It starts to affect you.  You’re distracted, which has become an issue with your brothers, namely Dave.  Taking care of Dirk and Dave has become harder, with Dave now creating more mischief than ever before.  The little shit is running away now, and sometimes it takes you hours to find him, even with Porrim’s help.  At the tender age of five, he has figured out how to get to Derse through the portal in the woods, and that scares you.

And then the nightmares.  Jake. 

Every. Fucking. Night. 

Jake bleeds from your heart into your mind and infects your thoughts like a rampant virus.

You start to get a little unhinged.

Porrim, good friend that she now is, notices.  She tells you that there’s something she wants to show you in the woods. But once you’re finally far enough away from the village, she turns to you with eyes that tell you she means business.  It doesn’t look like she’s angry with you, which is good, because you honestly cannot think of anything you’ve done wrong.

“Bro, you know that I think of you as a brother by now, right?” She prefaces whatever she has to say with these words, and you know that it can’t be good.  “I wouldn’t say any of this if I didn’t really care about you.”

“Spit it out Porrim,” you sigh.

“Very well,” she says, folding her arms and fixing you with a look that is both critical and yet sympathetic.  “I can tell that you are not well.  Why are you so troubled?”

“Jake,” you say simply, a little surprised at yourself for saying it so easily.  But you guess you’re finally at the point where you don’t care anymore.  What does it matter if Porrim knows the depth of your love for him?

Porrim knows the whole story by now.  You’ve told it to her in bits and pieces over time.  Her expression softens to one of concern as she says, “if you’d like, I can watch over Dirk and Dave for a bit.  You can take a few days to yourself.”

“A few days?”  You laugh.  “It’ll be another thousand years before I get to see him again. How am I supposed to live with that?”

To really fix your mind, put it back in place, you’ll have to see him again.  But it would take weeks, maybe months or years just to find him, and you can’t do that without fucking up this timeline.  Not unless—

Then the idea hits you.  A bright shining beacon of hope in the dreary mess that your world has slowly become.

Gently, you take Porrim’s hand and say, “Porrim, thank you so much for your hospitality these past five years.  I cannot thank you enough for everything you have done for me and my brothers.”

“Bro, you sound like you’re leaving,” she says, her expression dipping into a frown.

“I am.  I know what I have to do,” you tell her.  “I will not forget you or Kanaya though, and someday I will find you again.”

Porrim laughs and says, “what a weird way to say ‘keep in touch.’  Bro, you’re really such a character.  I’m going to miss you, but I know you have to do this.”  She pauses, her lips twisting in to a small wry smile.  “Whatever _this_ is.”

You feel a grin find its way to your face.  You can’t fucking wait.

Like, literally, you can’t.  You head straight back to Porrim’s house, bid farewell to Kanaya, collect your brothers, and leave.

“Where are we going?” Dirk questions as you start walking into the woods.  Dirk is eight now, and you trust him to walk beside you.  Dave, however, you hold securely by the legs, giving him a “piggy-back” ride as you walk.

Dave’s face lights with a shit-eating grin as he says, “Bro’s going to Derse!”

“We are?” Dirk asks.

“Yes,” you agree.  “It’s time you saw something.”

It’s kind of true.  You bring your brothers back to the room in Derse that the Condesce gave you five years ago.  The room that used to be your father’s.

It’s remained untouched since you left.  A fine layer of dust covers everything.  You put Dave down on the bed, and he immediately begins jumping on it, screaming with elation.

Dirk frowns and says, “I remember this place.  We were here before.”

“Yeah, we were,” you agree.

“Why did you bring us here?” Dirk asks, looking at you suspiciously.  “This is weird.  What are you planning?”

The kid is too precocious for his own good.

“The world isn’t safe,” you tell him, thinking up a tiny white lie quickly.  “I have some work to do.  I want it to be a safe place for you and Dave to live in.  So I’m going to put you to sleep until I make that happen.”

Dave immediately pouts and exclaims, “but I’m not even tired!”

Dirk also frowns at you and picks out the most important question. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully.  “But I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Your brothers both look upset by this news, but by now they know not to argue to your face.  That never ends well.  For them.

“Get under the covers, both of you,” you tell them gently.  They grumble a bit but listen to you.  You go to Dave’s side first.  Gently, you smooth his platinum blonde hair back and tip his shades down so that you can look into his bright red eyes.  Softly you murmur, “sweet dreams lil’ man.”

**_Mine. Dave you’re mine.  Sleep._ **

Slowly, his eyes flutter shut and his breathing evens out.  You concentrate on him a little harder, focusing on his bright fiery red soul.

**_Sleep deeply._ **

Slowly, the brightness of his soul dims until it’s only a faint glow, like a dying ember in a fire.  His breathing slows until you can’t even see it anymore.  If you didn’t know better, you would think he wasn’t alive.

That’s exactly what Dirk thinks.  “What the fuck?!!” he screams.

Immediately, he is clamoring out of the bed.  He forgets Lil’ Cal next to Dave, and you see the terror in his eyes as he contemplates going back for him.  But his fear of what you’re going to do to him wins out, and he scrambles across the room.  He pulls out his katana and screams, “have you gone fucking crazy?!  I don’t know why you killed Dave, but you’re not getting me too!”

You sigh.  You weren’t planning on having a strife with Dirk, but it seems like he wants one.  You don’t even bother pulling out your katana.  You don’t want this to last long.  It only takes a couple seconds for you to flashstep across the room and check him into the wall with your shoulder.  Dirk’s back crashes against the wall with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs.  He falls to his hands and knees on the ground, his hand still defiantly gripping his katana. 

Aww. You’re so proud of him.

“Relax, lil’ bro.  I didn’t kill him,” you murmur, standing and waiting for Dirk to pick himself up off the floor. Eventually, he does.  He stands and straightens his back, looking at you with clear mistrust.  “I put him to sleep.  A deep sleep.”

Dirk shakes his head.  “Why are you doing this?  Haven’t the last five years with Porrim and Kanaya been good?  Am I not learning fast enough?  Is Dave too much of a shit?”

Oh no.  You start to feel the depths of Dirk’s lonely feelings of angst pour from his soul, and suddenly you know why Bro always hated when you were “being emo.”

Even though his eyes are hidden behind his shades, you can sense his pain when he says, “I thought you promised not to leave us, Bro?  Why are you leaving?”

Slowly, you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his small frame.  You fill him with all the positive feelings you can manage right now.  Your care.  Your love.

“There are a few things I need to sort out, lil’ man.  You’ll be safe here, and I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.  Once the world is a better place,” you explain to him.

Dirk is silent for a very long time.  Finally, he asks, “promise you won’t be gone too long?”

“Yeah, I promise,” you say, tipping his head back and lowering his shades.  “Now show me your eyes.”

Dirk’s eyebrows are furrowed, and the look in his tangerine eyes is sad as he lifts his gaze to you.  You pull your own shades down and lock your gaze with his.

“Please come back soon,” Dirk whispers.

_Don’t abandon me too._

It’s killing your heart to hear his thoughts. Quickly, you put him under your influence and to sleep.

**_Mine. Dirk you’re mine.  Sleep.  Deeply._ **

Dirk slumps forward in your arms.  You catch him easily and watch the orange flame of his soul dim like his brother’s until it’s nothing but a faint glow.  Like a single matchstick in a forest.

Carefully, you carry him over to the bed and lay him beside Lil’ Cal and his brother beneath the covers.  You ruffle his hair, sweeping a few of the strands away from his face.  “Sleep well.”

You’re about to leave when you remember that there was something you actually wanted to take from the room this time.  Heading over to the dresser beside the bed, you open the top drawer and remove the locket.  You click it open and smile sadly at your parents’ faces.  Pocketing the locket, you head for the door.

With one final glance back at your sleeping brothers, you close the door.  You don’t have a key to the room, but it doesn’t take you much effort to figure out how to pick the lock from the outside so that it locks.

Now there’s only one thing left for you to do.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Make your final preparations** 

Her Imperious Condescension looks at you curiously as you enter her throne room. “Bro, what a pleasant surprise.  You’re early this week.  To what do I owe the honor?”

“I’m leaving,” you tell her as you walk up to where she is sitting on the throne.  When you finally get close enough to see her face to face, you pause.  “Don’t know how long.  Can you make sure nobody disturbs my brothers in the room you gave me?”

The Condesce chuckles, “oh.  I see what’s happened.”

You frown, losing your patience with her.  You don’t know how much longer you can put off your goal. Your true mission.  For your brothers, you manage to somewhat keep your cool and growl out, “can you do that?”’

“Yes, I can.  And I will,” she says, her eyes and voice amused.  “And before you ask, no.  I haven’t a clue where he is.”

“It’s ok.  I don’t need your help,” you say, feeling empowered and defiant.  “Thank you for watching my brothers.”

She chuckles.  “I’m no babysitter.  That room is yours, for whatever you wish.  If that desire is a final resting place for your brothers, then that is not my concern.”

“It’s not final.  I’m coming back for them,” you declare, resolve thick in your voice.  Losing your patience for conversation, you turn and begin walking away.

“When you’ve nothing else to run after, you know where to come,” the Condesce calls after you.

The doors close heavily behind you.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > JAKE!** 

Yes. That’s been your plan all along.  You have to see Jake.

You have no idea how long it will take to find him.  You have no idea where he is.  He could be anywhere in the world. Literally anywhere.

But you start your journey.  The fire of conviction only burns stronger in your heart as you walk through scorching deserts, freezing tundras, overgrown jungles, and arid plains.  You stop by villages along the way, scouring them for any sign of Jake, taking only what you need, and leaving no trace of your passing.

You’re on a mission, and no matter what your mind and body tell you, you are going to find him.

You will.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > JAKE!!!** 

It takes you the better part of two years to find him.  Without your hoverboard or even your Jeep, you have to get everywhere by foot.  Even flashstepping can only allow you to cover a certain amount of distance in a day.

And then there’s the searching. Once you reach a village, you have to diligently search the minds of everyone, scanning for any sign of him.

It is hard work.  It is tedious work.  But you would do it all fifty times over for the euphoric feeling that bursts in your chest when you find him.

Ironically enough, you find him in the city that will someday be known for the very accent you associate with Jake.  As soon as you walk into the antiquated pub, you sense him.  The tempting scent of his bright viridian energy is impossible to miss.  You wonder why you wasted so much of your time looking so hard in the past when it is so very clear that he is _right here in front of you._

It isn’t as if you haven’t looked for Jake in this city before.  This is probably the third time you’ve been here, but as you’re well aware, Jake does not like to stay put in one place for too long. 

As luck would have it, you find him sitting at a stool by the bar.  His dark hair is perfectly mussed. The glasses that you now know he doesn’t really need rest precisely on his nose.  He’s wearing clothing befitting the times, and you must say that they do look quite handsome on him.  His long knee-length tunic is a rich forest green color, and he has a matching dark cloak slung over one shoulder.  His dark cloth leggings seem tailor-fitted to his legs.  You could easily see him going pant-less in this getup, a much more attractive choice in your opinion.

Jake is laughing that delightful rich laughter and smiling in that adorable way that you remember.  He’s sipping a mug-full of dark ale and making some conversation with a moderately attractive female sitting beside him.

Well then.  Jake _did_ say you were his first boyfriend.  And that he was no stranger to sex.

It doesn’t take a genius like you to figure out what Jake is planning.

Your feet are moving before your brain can catch up, and suddenly you’re sitting in the stool beside him.  Jake, shockingly, doesn’t seem to notice.  “Jake,” you say, loud enough to get his attention but not loud enough to cause a scene.

He turns to you, and when his bright green eyes fix onto yours, you think you feel your heart threaten to flutter.  Jake’s expression is warm but confused as he smiles politely at you and asks, “pardon me, good sir, but did you happen to say my name?”

“I—” you pause.  “I did.”

The confusion in Jake’s expression deepens as he asks, “have we met before?  I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t seem to recall your name.”

And it hits you.  Of course he doesn’t know your name.  He doesn’t know you yet.  You knew that this was going to happen, but with him sitting here in front of you in the flesh, it’s so difficult not to see the man that you love.  That loves you back.

“It’s ok, no reason to be sorry.  We haven’t met,” you answer easily and stick out your hand.  By now, you’ve had practice giving people your new name, but for some reason, it feels different with Jake.  It feels like you’re deceiving him somehow.  You dislike it, but you have no choice.  Regretfully, your new name rolls off your tongue.  “Bro Strider.”

Immediately, Jake’s expression brightens, and he takes your hand, shaking it enthusiastically.  “Jake English!” he says jovially.

The woman sitting beside Jake appears to grow bored from the lack of attention.  Collecting her dress to herself, she walks away.  Victory.

Now that Jake’s attention is yours alone, you can finally talk to him.  About—about what?  This Jake doesn’t know you and movies don’t even exist yet, and _fuck_.  You really didn’t think this through.  After two years of wandering the world, you should have at least thought of something to say to him.  Quickly, you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

“That shade of green looks good on you.  It matches your eyes,” you say, slightly appalled at quite possibly the gayest (in every sense of the word) line that you have ever said.

Jake, naturally, doesn’t notice.  Instead of picking up that you are quite obviously hitting on him, he smiles cheerfully and says, “why thank you!  I was delighted when they began crafting this shade!  It is superbly marvelous!”

Jake is then happy to go on explaining how he came into possession of this particular article of green clothing, which was gifted to him by a queen after saving her prized jeweled necklace from thieves.  You drink in every word that he says, content to just sit and listen to him and he talks.  You watch the way his mouth moves, the excited expression in his eyes when he talks about one daring quest and moves on seamlessly to another.

Time passes, and you both move to a more comfortable seat at a table in the corner.  You’ve ordered a mug of ale for pretenses, and partially because the bartender was giving you a dirty look for loitering around his place without paying, but you are content to let it sit untouched on the table beside you.  Jake doesn’t even seem thirsty for his as he gesticulates wildly and regales you with his fantastic tales.

Eventually, Jake realizes that you haven’t said a word in the last few hours.  He smiles guiltily in that fucking adorable way of his and says, “oh dear, Strider, it seems I’ve done nothing but run my mouth and leave you all ears!  Terribly sorry, my dear fellow!”

“Don’t be sorry, I’ve—” you murmur, then pause for a moment. 

You’ve what?  Been fucking pathetically ecstatic just to hear his voice again?  You can’t say that. 

Jake doesn’t love you yet.  And you can’t let him.

You’ve been so blindly happy just to be near Jake again that you didn’t even think about that little detail.  Jake can’t love you.  Not yet.  As much as you hate it, you’ll have to do everything in your power to make sure he doesn’t.

“—really enjoyed hearing your stories,” you finish lamely.

Fortunately, Jake doesn’t think your words are lame. He smiles at you, and it’s warmth and sunshine.  “Thank goodness!  I would hate to think that I had bored you!”

“Impossible,” you answer truthfully.

Jake chuckles and quirks an eyebrow at you.  Wryly, he says, “nothing is impossible, old bean. Nothing.”

You want to laugh, but you don’t.  If only he knew.

“So what brings you to this fair city?” he asks.

“Traveling,” you respond smoothly.  “Felt like seeing the world.”

Jake’s bright green eyes light with enthusiasm and he says, “as do I!  You know—”

Oh no.

He leans in, a look of excitement in his eyes as he continues, “—wouldn’t it be grand—”

You silently plea that he won’t say what you think he’s going to say.

“—if we traveled the world together?”  Jake finishes, and all you can see is his gigantic bright smile.  His energy.  His hope.

You want more than anything to tell him yes.  You would gladly follow Jake to the ends of the earth and back time and time again.

But you can’t.  For the sake of the timeline, for yourself in the future, Jake can’t fall for you now.  You can’t spend too much time with him otherwise you really don’t trust what you might say.  Or do.

“It _is_ a grand idea,” you agree.  “But I can’t.  Got some responsibilities waiting for me.”

“Oh, I see,” Jake murmurs.  His expression is crestfallen, but he quickly perks back up.  “How soon do you need to return to these responsibilities?  Perhaps you have a day to spare?”

“Perhaps,” you concede.  You know that look on his face.  You’re instantly suspicious.  “What do you have in mind?”

It turns out that plays 1000 years ago suck about as much as they do in the future.  There’s less singing, but the romantic comedy that Jake drags you to is just as awful as you’ve come to expect from one of his selections.

You agreed to meet him the following afternoon at the outcropping by the riverside where the local theater troupe has taken residence.  It isn’t anything spectacular yet, just a grassy hill overlooking a flat area of land by the water.

Jake waves to you when you approach the hill.  You can’t help the small smile that touches your face as you make your way over to him.  Together, you both sit among a few others who have decided to spend the precious few free hours of their day ensconced in a terrible comedy.

The plot is slightly better than the modern movies that Jake will eventually drag you to see.  You suppose that without the aid of special effects, it took a bit more thought and consideration to make a work of entertainment truly entertaining. 

Of course, Jake could have invited you to watch paint dry on the wall and you would have accepted. 

It’s difficult, but you don’t touch him the entire time.  You don’t taste him.  But your incubus senses do pick up his happiness and elation, and you feel the warmth of his energy radiating out to you like a brilliant green sun.

You poke into his thoughts once or twice, curious to see what he is thinking, but he is completely engrossed in the play.

_Good heavens! Whatever will he do now that she is engaged to his brother?  What terrible luck!_

Jake’s thoughts aren’t surprising at all, but somehow you still love them. You love the way he truly cares about the fake characters, and the concern that he feels for them and their wellbeing.

And as you sit there with him, watching a cheesy romantic play, you begin to draw the similarities together.  Jake is always on his adventures, saving the day.  Everything from saving the lives of royalty to rescuing a crop from a dreaded beast is equally significant to him.  Just as every shallow-plotted movie or truly beautiful work of art is important to him. 

It all begins to make sense, in a weirdly obvious way.  You’ve always chided Jake for having no taste in movies, but now you are beginning to think that in the light of his pure-hearted character, it does make a peculiar sort of sense.  He doesn’t see the difference in value of the plots of plays and movies, just as he doesn’t see a difference in value of any life on the planet.

You suppose it all boils down to the same thing in the end.  Jake is full of care and hope for everything. The prosperity and vitality of the universe and all its beings has always been his responsibility.

After all, Jake _is_ a first guardian.

You know that he bears the greatest burden of all.  But even if you focus you senses as hard as you can, you do not sense Lord English within Jake.  The monster is locked that deeply within his soul, and Jake doesn’t seem to be concerned about him at all.

You watch the remainder of the play by his side.   You’re unable to see the weak plot in the same positive light as Jake, but you fully enjoy the time that you spend together.

After the play, you and Jake find yourselves back in the same alehouse that you were in the previous night.  You spend the remainder of the day over a few ales, listening to Jake chatter away about the brilliant plot of the play you just watched as well as several others he has had the good fortune of seeing in the past few years.

When evening comes again, you find yourselves wandering the cobblestone streets of the city.  As you walk down the streets, you aren’t even concerned about where you’re strolling.  All you care about is Jake.  Jake is beside you.  He’s talking. He’s happy.  You’re happy.

Jake suddenly turns to you, with that embarrassed and guilty smile on his face again.  “Goodness, Strider, I’ve talked the entire day away again!  Certainly you must have things to do.  I’ve kept you from your responsibilities.”

“It’s all right, that play was so worth it,” you respond easily.  “The part where she gets together with the lead guy? Totally didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I!” Jake exclaims.  Then, his voice softens and lowers a bit.  It’s almost as if he’s testing you when he says, “yes, but I’m sure I’ve kept you from _other_ things you need to do.  You are a demon, correct?  Don’t you need to feed?”

Oh shit. That’s right.  Jake doesn’t know about you yet.  Well, you guess he sort of does, but you aren’t sure where he stands on the matter of demons.  Did Jake in the past prefer just to send demons back to Derse?  He hasn’t attacked you yet, but now that you are thinking about it—

The cobblestone street that you were walking on has changed to gravel and dirt.  Jake has led you away from the town, out into a more deserted area where nobody will notice if you disappear.

Suddenly, you feel very afraid.  Not that Jake could kill you, because you could never put up a real fight against him.  You’d easily let him kill you and send you back to Derse.  And of course, by now physical pain is nothing to you.  

You’re afraid because you don’t want to lose Jake.  If you get sent back to Derse, you’ll lose him again.  You won’t know where he is.

You don’t know if you can stand that.

Jake must sense your inner conflict.  Either that or he’s actually noticed that you’re hesitating to respond.  “Strider, it’s all right.  I have seen that you have a good soul.  You would never truly hurt an innocent, and therefore, I have no reason to harm you.”

“I’m far from innocent,” you murmur, trying to piece together his meaning.

Jake smiles warmly at you, and he reaches out for you.  Before you can stop him, he rests his hand on your chest lightly, and you can feel the heat of his energy stronger than before.  “You have a good heart, Strider.  Some demons do.  As you know from my stories, I protect this realm from the forces of chaos, but you are not one of them.  I was uncertain of your intent last night, but after today, I know you stand on the side of goodness, morality, and justice.  I will not harm you.”

You could die on the spot from relief.

“There is only one thing I don’t understand,” Jake acquiesces, looking closely at you, gauging your reaction.  “Why did you seek me out last night?  You knew my name, and I’m certain we have not met.  And why did you meet me again today?”

“Same reason you aren’t killing me right now,” you reply, obfuscating your intent just a tiny bit.  “You have a good soul, English.  I can sense it.  That’s very rare these days.  I was drawn to it.”

Jake looks at you a bit closer, and suddenly you wonder if what you said sounded a little bit _too_ flirtatious.  “Just what sort of demon are you, Strider?”

You want him so badly and— oh fuck. What if he wants you too?  Instinctively, you dive into his thoughts and swallow hard with what you find.

Jake is interested.  You don’t know if that includes sexually or not, but he’s definitely interested and intrigued by you.  It tears your heart to pieces to admit it, but you can’t let this happen.

Slowly, you take a step away from him, letting Jake’s hand fall from your chest.  You feel the pain of his literal distance in your soul, as if the space between you is pulling your heart from your body. It hurts so much not to have him close to you. 

“Maybe I’ll tell you next time, English,” you respond to him quietly.

“Next time?” Jake asks, his lips quirking into a grin.  “So we will be meeting again?”

“You better fucking believe it,” you say, giving him your trademark grin before you turn and walk away.  “Till next time, English.”

Jake doesn’t follow.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > JAKE JAKE JAKE!!!**

Yeah, you wish that the little vacation you spent with Jake had truly fixed your broken soul, but it didn’t.  After that night, you don’t dare engage Jake again, but you do watch him from a distance.  You spend the following days traveling with him from city to city, always keeping your distance so that he won’t notice you.  But you don’t let him out of your radar.  You can’t lose him again.

Days turn into weeks.  Weeks turn into months.

You think that by now you’ve probably won some award for stalking.  You know that this can’t be healthy, but by the same token why the fuck do you care?

You’ve gotten good at keeping tabs on Jake by now.  You’ve honed your skills so that you can read his energy signature from a distance.  Now, even when he enters a large town, you can tell where he is anywhere within its borders.  You stop watching him all the time, and instead, you take comfort in just knowing that he is nearby.

As you get better at feeling his presence, you start to be able to truly _sense_ him from afar too.  You can feel his happiness, his anger, and very rarely, his melancholy with the state of the world.  When Jake’s happy, you’re happy.  When Jake’s sad, you’re sad.

No, this truly isn’t a healthy relationship, you think.  But you can’t stop it.  And you just don’t give enough of a fuck to care.

But that doesn’t mean that you stop thinking or caring about the things that are the most important to you.  Whenever you pass close enough to one of Derse’s stable portals, you travel quickly back to check on your brothers.  Every time, you find the door locked and the room just as you left it.  Your brothers are still deeply asleep, safe in the walls of Derse’s castle.  Safe in the Condesce’s protection.

Speaking of Her Imperious Condescension, it has been ages since you last spoke to her.  Now that you only have yourself to feed, the occasional energy from a mortal or two is plenty for you.  You have no need of the Condesce’s super charged energy. 

She doesn’t appear to be too distraught either.  She hasn’t bothered to come to you, even though she easily could.  It must not bother her too much.  She would let you know one way or another if it did.

After a time, you start reading Jake’s thoughts from afar.  You don’t need to be near him anymore to feel what he is feeling and to hear what he is thinking.  You learn about every little thing that elates him throughout the day, and you hear the depth of his resolve to make this universe a better place.

It hurts the first couple times you see him sleep with another.  You wish that you could be the one giving him that comfort, that pleasure.  You know for a fact that you could please him a hundred times better than the women he picks up at the bars.  Especially the grateful “virgin” princesses he saves.  But you also know that you would doom your future self, your little brother Dirk, if you ever did.

You had thought originally that Jake just enjoyed hanging around bars to converse with people and pick up women. However, you later come to realize that it’s where he collects most of his information.  After finding news of demons plaguing the countryside, or of a royal kidnapping, or anything in-between, Jake does not hesitate to rush to the rescue.

You watch him fight through countless trials and tribulations. And as tempting as it is to jump in and help him, you restrain yourself.  You won’t interfere with him or his life any more than you already have.

You won’t interfere.  _You won’t interfere._

And you don’t.  But it isn’t easy.

And finally, after a full year has passed since you last spoke to Jake, you can’t take it anymore.  You have to talk to him.  You have to truly see him.

You find him sitting in a tavern very much like the one where you first met him.  Evening has just fallen, and a bit of a chilly breeze wafts into the tavern as you walk in.  You find an empty seat beside him at the bar and murmur, “hey Jake.”

Jake turns away from the woman he was speaking to.  When his beautiful emerald eyes find you, his expression is at first surprised, but it melts quickly away into a warm smile.  “Strider, old chap!  I was wondering when we would have the good fortune of meeting again!”

You spend the night chatting with Jake over two untouched ales.  The arrangement isn’t perfect at all, and you know you’re a lovesick fool.  But you can’t imagine doing things any other way. 

Once a year, you decide, you’ll allow your heart a vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I’m not sure what happened to taking a break and studying for finals. This song may have had something to do with it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkanuz5PfNE
> 
> But THIS week, studying for finals must happen. Please send love to help me power through all of it!
> 
> Anyway. On another note, I’ve started writing the DaveJohn fic, and omg is Dave a pain in the ass to write. I completely 100% agree with Dirk now. Dave is such a little shit.


	22. Level-UP!

**Dirk == > Jake.** 

Decades pass.  Decades turn into centuries.  You watch the world change around you, and before long you realize that you’ve been following Jake for well over five normal human lifespans.

Stalking award.  It goes to you.

As you promised yourself, once every year, you meet up with Jake.  Without fail, he is _always_ elated to see you.

You think that Jake is beginning to notice a trend.  Either that, or he has created a habit for himself.  Every year, you always pick a temperate springtime day to appear to him.  It just so happens that the first couple years you found him around the same vicinity, near that town with the silly accent that you feel belongs to Jake.

So, even though Jake travels the world literally end-to-end, near the springtime of the year, he always comes back to that area of the world.  Often, he waits in that very city where you met him.  You have no doubt that he is waiting for you, because a day or two after you meet him, he usually leaves again, off onto another adventure.

The habit is peculiar, to say the least, but you can’t help but feel a sense of pride and happiness that Jake goes out of his way to see _you_.

You notice that as Jake travels the world, his accent melds with those around him.  He picks up other languages easily.  Or perhaps he knew them already?  You can’t entirely be certain.  You pick up several yourself as you watch his interactions with the people of the world. 

Unlike Jake, you also spend a good deal of your time reading texts of the world as he travels.  It’s not like you have anything better to do.  You keep up with your sword practice, and you hone your flashstepping skills.  But other than that, following Jake and staying out of his sight leaves you with very little to do.

It’s a fucking sin, but you actually stop caring about your hair.  Shortly after beginning your world travels with Jake, you realize that you won’t have a shower, any semblance of hair products, or anybody to look at your hair anyway.  But you have to be honest with yourself; it’s been a long time since you’ve really given a damn about it.  Somewhere in the five years that you were taking care of Dirk and Dave, your hair went to the wayside.  The lack of styling products in this past world may have facilitated that.  Also, you don’t dare trust any of the products available in Derse.  You’ve seen what it’s done to some residents’ hair. 

In the past, you tried a little bit to tame your spikes of hair into something presentable, but now you don’t care at all.  As a result, your normally neatly trimmed and styled hair gets a bit longer and shaggier.  It starts flipping and fanning in ways that you are not entirely pleased with, but at least it fits the times a little bit better.  It actually helps you blend in.  And you have a lot of blending to do, especially if you don’t want Jake to notice you.

With all your extra time, you take to reading.  Through books, you feel that you learn the languages of the world’s people far better than you could any other way.  And by listening to Jake’s conversations, you absorb the inflections and sounds unique to each region.

By the time the first couple centuries have passed, you feel that you could easily go anywhere in the world and communicate with anyone.  But it’s also around this time that you notice something else.  Something that makes you pleasantly surprised.

Over time, Jake spends significantly more of his days in the city where you first found him.  He arrives in the springtime every year and spends at least a month if not longer waiting for you to come to him.  Because he spends so much time in that city, Jake’s speech begins to naturally take on the flavor of that region more than any other.  Even when he leaves the area, he begins to carry bits of the accent with him everywhere he goes.

Well shit.  You always wondered how Jake English got his accent.  Now you know.

He picked it up waiting for you.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Check on your brothers** 

Enough time passes that you feel confident that you could find Jake anywhere.  You’ll never have that problem that you had in the beginning, where you spent two years just searching for Jake.  By using Derse’s portals, you know that you can find him anywhere in the world within an hour.

In fact, you test it.  Five centuries after you started following Jake English, you force yourself to leave his side and return to Derse for a while.  You check on your brothers. You tinker with Derse’s machinery like you always wanted to.  To keep yourself alive, you even have a “conversation” or two with the Condesce.

Two months later, you have no idea where Jake could be.  You step through Derse portal after Derse portal until you catch the faintest glimmer of his essence.  Following it, it takes you about an hour to reach him.  Elation washes over you when you see his fluffy dark hair from afar and you feel the depths of his persistently sunny personality.

Satisfied that you can find him anywhere, you return to Derse.

Time passes differently in this dimension.  What could be hours in Jake’s world might be days on Derse.  You begin to be a little afraid for your brothers, who you now realize have been sleeping far longer than a few centuries.

You check them very carefully, examining the warm colored flames of their life-force closely.  Thankfully, they are exactly the same as you left them.  Your brothers are still sleeping peacefully.

So you take advantage of the time to tinker with the machinery of Derse.  You spend years absorbed in your work.  You learn far more about engineering, programming, and machinery in general than you ever knew before.  Derse’s technology, or rather the technology from Her Imperious Condescension’s home planet, is far more advanced than yours.  Fairly quickly, you find yourself obsessed.

Despite your compelling obsession, you never miss your one day every year with Jake.  Of course, you find that it takes about ten Derse years to equal one of yours.  Give or take a few.

You suppose it would bother you more, but you found a way to keep tabs on him from here.  You’ve gone all sci-fi and shit, and you swear that the device you create looks like something straight out of Star Wars.  And by device, you actually mean robot body.

That’s right.  You finally finish creating a body for AR.

AR is thrilled, naturally.  The first thing he does when you transfer his consciousness into the metallic body is do a fucking backflip.  Just cause he can.

“Holy fucking shit, tell me this is real.  Tell me this is _fucking real_ ,” AR says, using his vocal speakers for the first time once he lands on his shiny black metallic booted-feet.  His voice sounds exactly like yours, because you used your own voice for vocal samples.  Like everything else, that can be modified later.

“It’s fucking real,” you assure him, smirking with pride at your creation.

He flexes his reflective gray metallic fingers, admiring their dexterity.  Even though he knows what his body looks like inside and out (literally,) he still twists around to fully appreciate the shiny gray and black body you’ve built for him.  As you used Derse’s premier metals, you felt it only fitting to accentuate his body with decorative purple neon lines down the sides of his arms and legs.  At AR’s prompting, you made “stealth mode” available for him to activate and deactivate the lights at will.

Finally, after centuries of waiting, AR is his own unique being.  He stays with you for a couple days, but you know that he really just wants to get out and see the world.  He wants to exist like he’s never been able to before, and you have no problems with letting him do just that.  In fact, it’s all a part of your plan.

For, what better way is there to see the world than to follow Jake?  Ok, you know there are several better ways, but you also know that AR is just as obsessed with him as you are.  Loving Jake is one area where the two of you never diverged.

So, when you suggest that he stealthily follow Jake around the world and keep tabs on him, AR is more than happy to comply.  He still has access to your shades, though. You let him continue to see whatever you see and spew his bright orange text across your vision whenever he pleases.

And the best part is, you also have access to everything he sees.  You can tune into his vision whenever you want to.  When you start missing Jake, it only takes a thought to bring up AR’s sight in your shades.  If AR isn’t currently looking at Jake, he finds him for you.  He lets you see the man you love more than anything else.

AR’s a good bro to you like that.

For a while, it’s enough.  You’re able to focus on your work.  Steadily, you allow time to pass.

As the years go by, you continue to improve AR’s body, making it more flexible and capable.  You improve his exterior so he has skin that’s warm to the touch, gets goosebumps when he’s “cold,” and bleeds when he’s hurt.  You’ve given him hair that is soft and pliable, that he can easily craft into whatever shape he pleases.  AR can change the color of his skin and hair at will, allowing him to finally blend in with human beings.

When he catches the first glimpse of himself in a mirror, he actually gasps.  He turns to you with bright blue life-like eyes and says, “I’m so happy I could fucking kiss you.”

And then he does.  With the warm pliable lips and moist tongue that you built for him.

It does nothing to feed you, of course, but you show him what to do.  It’s one thing to have access to all the world’s porn, but it’s an entirely different thing to experience it.  Yes, you’ve taken care to give AR all the equipment, sensors, and programming he will need for sexual pleasure.  If he’s going to be a real person, you want him to be able to experience that.

But he can experience that with someone that isn’t you.  AR looks a little surprised when you pull away from him, patting him lightly on the chest.  “You don’t need me for this part.  I’m sure you can figure this out on your own.”

And you’re sure that he will.  Now that he is finally complete, you truly let AR return to the world.  It isn’t long before you realize that he’s looking at Jake less and less.  AR is fascinated with people and with the novelty of simply _existing_ in the real world.

Soon, you find little reason to tune into his vision.  It’s filled with people that you don’t care about.  And Jake?  Well, AR lets you know when he’s nearby.

It isn’t a shock when he finally comes to you and says, “think I’ve gotta do my own thing for a while.”

“Sure, man, do what you’ve gotta do,” you respond, looking up from your current project.

“No, I don’t think you get it,” he insists.  You congratulate yourself on a job well done, because when you look into his eyes, you swear that you see genuine feeling behind them.  “I need to actually live a real life.  Spend a lifetime with someone.  As Hal.”

“Hal?”  you ask, your interest finally piqued.  “That’s ironic as shit.  Good job.”

“Yeah, thought you’d like it,” he says, and again, you swear that he sounds almost regretful and reluctant that he has to tell you these things.  But really, you’re not surprised.  You’ve seen it coming for a long time now.

“So you have someone in mind?” you ask.  “That dragon girl you saved last year?”

“Her name’s Terezi,” Hal interjects quickly, in a way that you totally know it’s her.

“Wait, it’s really _her_?  That was a joke.  You’re in actual love with a female?” you ask, suddenly very shocked.  Just how much has AR diverged?  When did he start becoming attracted to the half of the population you have never been interested in?

“Fuck, Dirk, don’t think about it like that,” Hal says.  “You make it sound like I’m some kinda freak.  I still like dudes just like you, but I’ve found things I like about girls too?”

The way he says it carries such vulnerability that you sigh.  Time to be the older bro again.  You didn’t realize you’d have to parent _three_ kids. 

You place a hand on his shoulder and say, “yeah, you might be a little bit of a freak. I mean, I programmed you after _me_.  I love the most dangerous guy in the universe and fuck the most treacherous girl.  It’s a tango with death every fucking day.  Shit dude, can’t fuck it up worse than me. Love whoever and whatever you love.”

This actually gets a little bit of a smirk out of Hal.  “You just used fuck three times in three different ways.  There’s a 95.3% chance that you’re going to miss me.”

“Better cut that percentage shit out before you start your human life.  People will start to catch on,” you chide.

“In this day and age?  Highly unlikely,” he says, then pauses. You wait for it.  A couple seconds later, he amends, “—99.6% unlikely.”

“You little shit,” you grin, swatting his ass to push him away.  “Get outta here before I get tired of looking at you.  Oh wait.  I already did.”

Hal surprises you when he leans in and softly captures your lips with his in that tender way that you showed him.  He cards his warm, completely life-like fingers through your hair and deepens the kiss with expertise that makes you proud.  When he pulls back, he looks at you fondly and says in a genuine voice, “thank you, Dirk.  Really.  Thank you for making me exist.”

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Jake** 

Now that AR is no longer keeping an eye on Jake, you begin to grow restless again.  It isn’t long before you decide to throw your tinkering to the side and visit him.

As fortune would have it, this is about the time of the year that you usually visit.  You find him sitting in a pub in the town that has Jake’s accent.  As usual, he’s waiting for you.

“Hey Jake,” you say, slipping into the seat beside him.  He’s sitting at a table today, gazing pensively out the thick glass panes of the window.

Jake turns to you, and as always, his expression warms when he lays eyes on you.  “Strider!  How fortunate to see you!”

You can tell immediately that something is wrong.  By now, the number of single days you have spent with Jake adds up to longer than you knew him in the past.  Longer than Dirk will know him someday.  A small twinge of guilt hits you as you think of your younger brother, sleeping his life away in Derse.

But you push that feeling quickly away.  Something is wrong with Jake.  “What’s going on?  You seem a little worried today.”

“Oh do I?  I’m not worried!” Jake says, feigning innocence as he looks at his glass of ale, then at you, then at the window, and then back at you.  When he sees that you aren’t giving up, he sighs in defeat.  “Strider that look of yours will be the death of me someday.  Yes, I suppose I am a little bit worried.”

“—about?” you prompt him.

Jake looks around the tavern quickly, then leans in toward you and lowers his voice.  “I think I’m being followed.  And I can’t exactly say by who.  They haven’t made themselves known.”

“What does this person look like?” you ask.

“That’s the problem!  I don’t even know!”

“Then how do you know you’re being followed?” you ask pointedly, wishing suddenly that you’d continued to follow Jake yourself.  Maybe you could have caught the person who dared to follow _your_ boyfriend around.  Future boyfriend.  Whatever.

“I just _know_.  One too many strange feelings.  One too many coincidences,” he murmurs, his voice sounding rushed and concerned.

“Coincidences?” you prod again.

“Strange things happen to every town I seem to visit anymore.  People are dropping down dead.  It’s always the town I visit.  Always the same length of time that I’m there,” Jake says, and you can hear the unease in his voice.  “I can’t make heads or tails of it, but soon people are going to start thinking _I’m_ doing these terrible things!”

“What sort of terrible things?” you ask.

“It’s—all rather peculiar,” Jake murmurs, his voice trailing off.  He flushes a bit before leaning in and whispering, “ _they all seem to expire post-coitus._ ”

“After sex?” you repeat quietly, frowning with thought.  It sounds like the work of one of your kind.  An incubus or a succubus.  One that doesn’t know where the line is, or that doesn’t care to.  One that kills, leaving a trail of bodies behind.

One person comes to mind immediately.

A chill runs up your spine at the thought.  But you don’t let Jake know you’re concerned.  You maintain your strict Strider indifference and simply tell him, “I’ll help you figure this out.”

He smiles at you, fleeting but genuine, and it fills your heart with warmth.  “Thanks, old chap!”

Jake spends the rest of the day happily chatting away about the grand adventures that he’s had this year.  You’re happy to listen to him until long after nightfall.  Finally, he smiles sheepishly in that adorable way that you’ve come to love and says, “oh dear, it seems I’ve gabbed the day away again!  What about you, Strider? What have you done this year?”

“Built a robot,” you answer before realizing that Jake might not know what that is.

Quite the contrary, Jake surprises you by lighting up with excitement.  “Really?!  Does that mean you’ve been to Derse?”

“I kind of live there,” you admit.

“No wonder I never see you around,” Jake muses, giving you an odd look.

“Wait, you’ve been to Derse?” you ask, even though you know the answer.  Gotta keep up pretenses.

“Prospit too,” he agrees. “Come now, what adventurer wouldn’t want to visit every land possible?”

“Never been to Prospit,” you admit.

“Not many demons have,” Jake agrees, musing thoughtfully.  “But perhaps there’s a way—”

“It’s really ok,” you assure him. “Something tells me all that holy wouldn’t be good for my skin.  Or my anything.”

Jake chuckles and shakes his head.  “Oh, but you’re really missing out!  The buildings are beautiful, and the clouds—exquisite!”

“I think I’ll survive,” you kindly inform him.

Jake looks around, noticing that you two are the last people left in the pub.  As usual.  And the bartender is giving you looks that tell you he’d much rather clean up and go home than stay here all night.  You’d say that’s impossible, but you and Jake _have_ done that before.  Finally, Jake’s eyes rest on you.

“I suppose this is it then?” he asks, and you could swear that there is a hint of sadness in his tone.  “Till next year?”

“Nah, man,” you murmur.  When his expression lights up, you tell yourself it isn’t hope that you see behind those beautiful green eyes.  “I told you I’d help you with your stalker.”

Oh the irony.

Jake’s smile is wide as he exclaims, “why, that’s right!  I’d plumb forgotten about him!”

“Her,” you correct.  “I have a feeling it’s a her.”

Jake frowns.  “A her?  But what sort of dame could do such a thing?”

“One who’s done it for several millennia already,” you answer.  Then, you look at him.  “Get some rest, English.  I’ll look into it tonight and meet you tomorrow.”

“Should we decide on a meeting place?” he asks.

“I’ll find you,” you assure him.  You will.

“Right then,” Jake says, smiling at you in that sinfully adorable way.  “Till tomorrow.”

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Hunt down a bitch** 

It doesn’t take you very long to find her.  You know exactly who you are after, and once you focus your senses enough, it isn’t hard to pick up her trail.

The trail ends at a lonely cottage on the outskirts of town.  You don’t have to walk inside to smell the death within.  Quietly, you slip inside.

It appears a huntsman lived here alone.  He seemed rather successful too.  Until his recent stroke of bad luck.

You dare to open the door to the single bedroom, and you find her sitting on the bed. 

The owner of the home is splayed naked beside her, his blood dripping down the bedsheets from wounds that she’s clawed into his skin.  She runs a deadly fingernail through a pool of blood, licking it off her finger with pleasure.  It’s exactly who you expected.

Damara Megido.

She’s wearing her favored red kimono-style dress, the same one you saw her wearing centuries ago in Derse.  She looks at you with coy crimson eyes.  When she opens her mouth to speak, it’s the same Japanese that you’ve come to expect from her.  “ _You are one of my kind, yes?  Do you like what you see?  Perhaps you would like to fuck on these filthy sheets too.  They’re already seasoned with the most delicious thing."_

“I find nothing about blood delicious.  And I don’t ever want to fuck you,” you inform her.

“ _Is it because you like men?  I can be very persuasive,_ ” she says, grinning at you in a conniving manner that you don’t trust.  “ _It seems the Condesce is persuasive too._ ”

“How do you know about me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes in suspicion as you pace slowly to where she is sitting on the bed.

“ _I know a lot about you,_ **_Dirk Strider_** ,” she croons.

You freeze, standing right in front of her.  “How the _fuck_ do you know that name?” you demand, your voice lowering to a murderous growl.

Damara smiles, and it’s sinister and wicked.  “ _I have kept an eye on you since you brought him to me.  Since you helped me find my lord—_ ”

You don’t let her say any more.  In a blur of movement, you’ve pulled out your katana and shoved it straight through her chest.

It’s clear that she wasn’t expecting an attack from you.  Damara’s eyes widen in surprise, filled with a livid fury.  “ _How dare you—!”_

“Stay the fuck away from Jake,” you growl.  In one fluid movement, you pull the blade up, slicing through her body and skull.

Damara disappears in a burst of dust, littering the bed and her poor victim’s body with her ashen remains.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Find Jake** 

Ok.  That isn’t hard to do.  You find him sleeping in a pile of hay beside a barn on a farm slightly outside the city.

Kind of odd.  But you suppose you’ve seen him sleep in worse conditions.  At least the nighttime air is temperate at this time of the year, and there is no rain.

Jake doesn’t come to when you walk up to him. For a couple minutes, you just stand there sort of awkwardly.  What should you do?  You can’t just—sleep beside him can you?

You’ve decided, after centuries of waiting, that yes. Yes you can.

So, you find a soft patch of hay close enough that you can feel Jake’s warm presence, curl up, and close your eyes.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Let Jake wake you up** 

What?  No, you were comfortable in that hay.  Surprisingly comfortable.

But Jake is far more important than your comfort.  And when he sits beside you, bringing you a plate of potato hash, you crack an eye open at him.

“Care for a spot of breakfast, Strider?” he asks, holding the plate out to you.  The morning sunlight frames his body and he’s like a fucking angel serving you breakfast on a cloud.

How can you say no to that?  You sit up, taking in the sight of him while you accept the plate of perfectly golden-brown potatoes.  You’re not completely positive, but you get the distinct feeling that Jake didn’t make these.

Jake smiles at you sheepishly and says, “my apologies, but I didn’t make these.”

Yup. There it is.

“It’s the work of the lovely elderly couple that runs a breakfast shop just outside town,” Jake explains.  He goes on to describe how he helped them once with a predicament involving some stolen goods, and after that they have always insisted that he eat breakfast with them when he is in town.

By the time he finishes, you’re done with the potatoes.  You regard him calmly through your shades and inform him, “I got rid of the demon following you.”

Jake’s eyes widen and he exclaims, “you did?!  However did you find him?”

“Her,” you correct him again.  “She was hard to miss.  How _didn’t_ you find her?”

“I try not to look for trouble,” Jake says softly.  You don’t believe him for a second.

“I don’t believe you,” you say, in a way that’s probably far too accusing.

“But I’m telling the tru—” he begins to stammer.

You tip your head down and give him a _look_.  Jake’s known you long enough to know what that means.

He sighs.  “Very well.  I knew it was Damara.  I tried to confront her once before, but she—she _did_ something to me.”

Your eyebrows quirk in agitation. “ _What the fuck did she do to you?_ ”

Your voice must have sounded far more upset and accusing than you intended.  Jake is clearly taken a bit aback, and he rushes to explain, “I couldn’t do anything, Strider!  She did something to me, and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fight her.”

You sigh and force your voice to remain calm as you say, “it’s ok, Jake.  She’s gone now.  But I have a feeling that this won’t be the only time you see her.  Next time—”

“Next time what?” he says, in a voice that sounds far too defeated.  It doesn’t sound like Jake, and you hate that.  “It isn’t as if I have anyone else to help me fight.  And it was simply good fortune that you happened to stumble by when you did.”

You pause, thinking of what you should do.  You know that you want nothing more than to wipe the universe, including Derse, free from Damara’s wretched presence. And you want to follow Jake 24/7 to make sure that nothing bad ever happens to him again.

But you can’t do that.  You clench your jaw a bit with frustration.  Why the fuck is the universe this callous?  _Why can’t you just be with the guy you love?_

Suddenly, your vision darkens, and Bro fills your shades.  He’s sitting at his desk, looking at you with calculating orange eyes.  “AR told me you’re being emo again.  That true?”

“ _Bro, this is **not**_ _the time!_ ” you think back at him.

“Seems like a perfect time to me,” he remarks.  “You’re here— _Jake’s_ here—”

“ _What can I do to make you go away?_ ” you think back at him sourly.

“Cut that shit out,” he tells you with a straight face.  “Jake’s feeling hopeless, and you’re going to just stew in your own self-pity?  You’ve gotta do something.”

“ _Yeah, but what?_ ” you think with exasperation.

“Gotta figure that out on your own lil’ man.  Can’t tell you all the answers,” he says.  “But think about this.  Mom and Dad left you with a mission.  Maybe it’s time you thought about fulfilling it.”

With that, Bro’s gone, leaving you with a somewhat perplexed looking Jake.  And a perplexed you.  What the fuck did that mean?  What does he expect for you to do?

Bro never made things easy on you.  Why should he start now?

Sighing, you finally man up and say, “Jake, I wish I could travel with you.  Believe me, you’re a great friend to me and I’d like nothing more.”

“Oh, Strider, you’re a great friend to me too!” Jake agrees happily.  Hearing him say that simultaneously lifts your spirits and also crushes them.  But you’ll take it.  It’s progress.

“I have responsibilities,” you finish sadly.  “I can’t ignore them.”

“No, you mustn’t forsake your responsibilities,” Jake agrees, but something about the way he says it is different.  He doesn’t sound sad at all.  In fact, his eyes look a bit incensed and more energetic than before.  “Fear not, Strider.  Forgive me for being a bit melancholic earlier, but I see now that I must persist.  Just as you carry on with your responsibilities, so too shall I.”

Jake doesn’t elaborate, but you understand what he means.  He’s talking about his responsibilities as a First Guardian.

You smirk at him.  “Glad you understand.  So, next year?”

“Actually, Strider, you don’t suppose,” Jake murmurs, his voice trailing in a way that makes you suspicious. “—that your responsibilities can wait another day?”

You sigh.  “What did you have in mind?”

“There’s a new theater in town, and a play that just began not too long ago,” he says suggestively.

“Tell me it’s not another romantic comedy,” you say dryly.

Jake grins at you, “oh, there’s a new playwright in town!  His work is brilliant.  This one’s called _A Midsummer Night’s Dream._ ”

It sounds suspiciously like a romantic comedy.  You have your doubts, but as usual, you find it impossible to say no to him. 

You watch the play with Jake, taking a seat in the circular theater by the waterfront.  The play actually isn’t half-bad.  Jake is, shockingly, correct about the brilliance of the new playwright.  But even if he wasn’t, you’d still be happy.

You’re with Jake.  And right now, that’s all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F is for Friday! And Finals! And hopefully not for the grade that I’ll get on them come Monday!
> 
> I’m not really sure what happened to taking a break to study for finals. Again. Somehow this chapter happened. I feel kind of bad that I missed Update Thursday, but these things happen. Hope you all liked this chapter!


	23. A New Old Nemesis

**Dirk == > Follow Jake**

That’s exactly what you do for the next few decades.  You watch as more and more shady figures begin to follow Jake around.  Like a silent sentinel of death, you take them down one by one.  Damara was just the start.

You also take down Kurloz.  And Meulin.

And agents.  More agents than you care to count.

It doesn’t take you long to come to a conclusion that makes you bust through the doors to the Condesce’s throne room, a deep scowl on your face.  “Why are you sending agents after Jake?” you demand.

The Condesce regards you with amusement.  “I’m not, but that’s certainly an interestin’ problem you’re havin’.”

“Cut the bullshit,” you growl, stalking up to where she’s sitting, grinning at you on her throne.  “Nobody else has the power to command the agents but _you_.  Why are you sending them?”

“Dearest Bro, I don’t think you quite understand,” she murmurs, her eyes narrowing in a way that makes you suddenly acutely aware that you’re shouting at one of the most powerful beings in the universe.  One that could kill you in a heartbeat if she wanted to.

But you suppose that’s one of the perks of knowing the future.  You know she won’t do it.

“Enlighten me,” you say dryly.

“Sure, I tell the agents what to do, but I don’t always have work for them.  And when they’re not followin’ ma orders, whose do you think they’re followin’?” she purrs at you.

“Who?” you ask her.

She simply shrugs at you.  “Don’t know.  Don’t care.  It’s not ma problem.”

Like a child throwing a temper-tantrum, you growl at her with fury and slam the doors behind you.

You return to watching Jake carefully, eliminating the people following him.  Jake never realizes that you’re there, but he does get the feeling that people are following him.  In the next few years, when you meet with him, he is more apprehensive than before.  He does less adventuring and more fighting.  Soon enough, players that you recognize begin to show up. 

The Midnight Crew.

You loathe to take them on, knowing just how powerful they are.  Of course, your skills have improved dramatically in the centuries since you last fought Spades Slick.  You’re pretty sure that you can keep up with him now, and you would like nothing more than to slice that smug smile off his face.

But the Midnight Crew doesn’t work like the other demons or agents that follow Jake.  Their approach is far more destructive, more overt.  They split up, making it impossible for you to get to them all even if you wanted to.  Worse, they cover their tracks, and they hide. 

Even if you wanted to kill them all, which at this point you do, you can’t.  And they begin to cause problems.  Lots of problems.

They try to attract Jake’s attention.  They destroy villages and kill hundreds to do so.

Eventually, it gets to the point that Jake notices and begins to seek them out.  Since they literally come to him, it’s not hard for him to do.  He’s actually far more competent than he was letting on when he fought Spades Slick with you.  Jake kills a couple of the Midnight Crew, but it’s never permanent.  Just like all the other demons and agents of Derse, they respawn in the dark depths of Derse, clawing their way back to the surface.  They find their way back to the mortal world quickly.

It becomes too much for Jake to handle by himself, even with your behind-the-scenes help.  You hear it in Jake’s thoughts.  His anguish that people are dying. That civilizations are being destroyed simply because the Midnight Crew is trying to get to _him._ He knows that as a First Guardian he has to do something to protect the world. 

Jake starts the Felt. 

Like a team of rag-tag heroes, Jake assembles sorcerers, demons, and fighters with moderate abilities but good hearts.  They band to him like flies on jelly, caught up in his positive spirit and his impossibly huge _hope_ for the world.  They all wear snazzy green suits, far ahead of the times, and as Jake would put it, “the most dapper hats.”  The camaraderie you sense among them is admirable.

And they start winning.  Together, they hold the Midnight Crew at bay.  Cities are no longer threatened by their destruction.  The world is safe.

You meet Jake in the springtime a few months after the stability of the world has begun.  He is, as usual, overjoyed to see you.

“Strider!” he exclaims, beaming from ear to ear as you settle into a seat in a wooden booth across from him.  Jake is far from alone. The Felt are all in the city with him, but you’ve managed to catch him on an evening where he is at this pub alone.  You wouldn’t be surprised if he did this purposefully, knowing that you might come by soon.

“I thought you might come by soon,” he says, confirming your suspicions.  “Boy do I have a lot to tell you this year!”

Jake goes on to tell you about how he recruited each member of the Felt.  He tells you a lot of things that you already know, such as the battles that they have won.  But the way Jake says it fills your heart with warmth.  He tells you little bits and pieces that you didn’t know, since you don’t tune into his thoughts _all_ the time.  And honestly, even if you had heard Jake tell this exact story a million times already, you would listen again. 

People truly do the most peculiar things for love.

When he finishes his story, Jake gives you an intriguing look and says, “I have something for you, old bean.”

You try not to show your surprise when Jake holds it out to you.  “Holy fuck, Jake—” you murmur, taking it in your hands and turning it over.

It’s an orange hat.  And not just any orange hat.  You can tell just from seeing it that it’s _the_ orange hat Bro always wore.  That you know _you_ will wear forever.

“Do you like it?” Jake asks. 

“It’s perfect,” you say, flipping it onto your head.  It fits snugly, as if he had it tailor made just for you.  “Love it.”

“I had it tailor made just for you,” he admits.  You’re starting to wonder if _he’s_ the one with the mind-reading abilities.  He beams as he watches you adjust it on your head. “I’d have given you a number and asked you to join my crew, but I know you have responsibilities.”

“If I didn’t, you know that I would have,” you murmur truthfully, then look at him curiously.  “You knew that I couldn’t join your crew.  Why did you have this hat made for me?”

“Because you’re my best friend, Strider,” Jake says softly.  “And even though we may not see each other very often, I consider you part of my crew.  You mean a lot to me.”

“You’re my best friend too, English,” you don’t hesitate to say.  It takes all of your Strider skills of self-restraint not to react to that more than a tiny smile.

Wait a second.  Something about what Jake said strikes you as odd.  The words were nothing special, but the way he said it–

Worried about what you might find, you prod into his thoughts and feelings.  You find exactly what you feared.

Jake likes you.  More than as his best friend.

Though he is feeling that way, he doesn’t seem to be _thinking_ that way.  His thoughts don’t seem to support the same conclusion as his heart.  Jake English, it seems, hasn’t realized that he likes you yet.  But his heart is full of warmth and tender feelings.  Not love, not yet, but you know that if you aren’t very careful, it could bloom there soon.

You spend the rest of the evening relaxing in Jake’s company, wishing more than anything that you could tell him how you really feel about him.

Such a love-sick fool. That is you.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Return to Derse** 

After seeing that Jake has things under control with the Felt, you return back to your projects in Derse.  You decide, unfortunately, that you’ll have to avoid seeing him for a while.  As much as you want to, you can’t let him fall in love with you.

And so time passes.  You spend a few decades in Derse.  The mortal realm experiences a few years.  It gets a little lonely.  You check very infrequently on Jake, now that he has the Felt to take care of him.  Your transmissions from AR grow less and less common as he becomes ensconced in his life with Terezi.  You continue to be a shitty-ass older brother and keep your younger bros in a deep sleep.  To stay alive, you feed from the Condesce, but only as little as you need to survive.  You become a verifiable hermit, awaiting the passage of the years until you can see Jake again.

After several long decades alone, an unexpected visitor finds you working in the room you claimed as your robotics shop.

“If it isn’t Bro Strider!”

You whip around quickly at the sound.  When you see who is standing at the doorway, you crack a small smile.  “Rufioh,” you grin, standing up and taking his offered hand.  “Good to see you, dude.”

“Yeah you too, man!” he says in that ever so chill way you remember. 

You step back and take a second to bask in the fact that you actually have a visitor.  It’s not that common because it’s not like you advertise your location or anything.  Derse doesn’t have a phonebook or white pages.  “How’d you find me here?”

Rufioh shakes his head and laughs softly.  “That, my friend, was not easy. You keep yourself on the down-low so it took some searching.”

“I bet,” you agree, looking behind him. “Where’s Tavros? I thought you said you had to take care of him?”

“Tav?” Rufioh laughs.  “Bro, he’s over 500 years old!  My little baby bro can take care of himself.”

It hits you like a cold wave.  Tavros is over 500 years old.  That means your kid brothers should be over 500 years old too.

At least, they would be if you hadn’t put them to sleep.  They’d be mature adults by now (you hope) if you’d only had the fucking decency to let them _live_.

Such a shitty parent. That’s you.

Rufioh’s been talking while you reflect on your failure as a parent, and you are quick to nod along and catch up with what he’s saying.

You spend weeks chilling with Rufioh, building robotics projects together and catching up on life in general.  You even hit a couple of his parties in Derse.

At first, you resist the temptation of the party-high he cultivates with the masses of demons he gathers together.  But eventually, you allow yourself to get completely swept up in the tidal wave of euphoric energy.  It feels so _fucking good_ to immerse yourself in the raw pleasured energy of the crowds at Rufioh’s hit parties that you find yourself quickly addicted to the high. 

You aren’t sure how much time passes.  Years?  Decades?  More?

You build your robotics.

You chill and party with Rufioh. 

You fuck.

You build.

You party.

You fuck. 

You party.

You fuck.

You party. 

You _forget_.

It’s so much easier this way.  You don’t have to think about anything.  You don’t have to worry about your brothers sleeping their lives away. You don’t have to think about Jake, living his days away without you.

All you have to do is go with the flow. 

Drift.

Exist.

_Forget._

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Wake the fuck up** 

“Now, Dirk.  Wake the fuck up _now_.”

You come to suddenly, sitting up covered in a cold sweat.  Your shades are crooked on your face, but you can clearly see Bro’s disapproving look.

“You’ve been partying with Rufioh again, haven’t you?” he asks, his voice full of stern disapproval.

“Yeah maybe,” you drawl back slowly, shifting and stretching lazily.  “What’s it to you?”

Rufioh murmurs something from where he’s sleeping in the bed beside you, and you force yourself to get up and trudge out of the bedroom.  You fall onto the couch in Rufioh’s main living room and squint at Bro as he continues to berate you.

“It’s everything to me.  _You are me_.  And _Dirk is you_.  If you fuck this up, you fuck Dirk up, you fuck _everything up_ ,” he says lowly.

“You know what I don’t miss about you? I don’t miss your fucking lectures,” you snarl back at him.

“Wake the _fuck up, Dirk!_ ” Bro growls at you, and you can see the fury in his livid tangerine eyes.  Even though he’s nowhere nearby, and he never will be again, you still can’t help feeling that nervous pit in the bottom of your stomach when you see him like this.

Bro is pissed at you.  He’s _really_ pissed.

“Better believe I’m pissed!” he agrees lowly.  “Dirk, you _cannot_ spend all of your fucking life partying and forgetting about everything.”

“I haven’t spent my whole life—” you mutter.

“It’s been **_one hundred fucking years!_** ” Bro roars at you.

That makes you pause.  One hundred years?  It’s been one hundred fucking years?

“Yes,” he agrees basely, his voice full of barely contained venom.  “You’ve forgotten about Jake for one hundred years, and now it’s time to stop taking it out on your brothers.”

You’re floored.  How does Bro always do this to you?  How does he always know what to say to make you feel like the scum of the earth?

“No, right now you’re the scum of Derse,” he corrects you.  “But you don’t have to be.  Go clean yourself up.  Put your head back on straight.  There’s some big shit coming up, and you’ll have to deal with it soon.  Once that’s over, you can think about making all of this up to your innocent brothers.”

“They’re shits,” you mutter.

“You’re shittier,” Bro snaps back at you. 

It’s silent for a few heavy moments.  Much as you hate it, you’re inclined to agree with him.

Finally, he sighs and says, “look, you won’t be a fuck-up forever.  Go back to your robotics.  _Stop_ hitting Rufioh’s parties.  You remember what those do to you.”

“Yeah,” you grudgingly murmur in agreement.  Slowly, you get up from the couch and make your way to the door.

“Hey,” he says, making you pause with your hand on the door.  “Be hard on yourself but not _too_ hard.  Next time I see you, things will be better.”

* * *

 **Dirk == > Clean your shit up** 

You listen to Bro.  You believe him.  Because Bro’s never been wrong before. (Except that one time that he was totally wrong.)

You do it for yourself.  You do it for Jake.

But most of all, you do it for Dirk and Dave, who are still awaiting the return of Bro, their older brother.

And somewhere, sometime a few days down the line, you’re caught off-guard when someone unexpected finds you in your workshop.  You are expecting Rufioh, wondering where you’ve disappeared to for so long.  But a quick gauge of the energy in the room tells you that it’s not your long-time friend.

You look up from your work and actually do a double take.  “Never thought I’d see the day you left the throne room,” you murmur.

Her Imperious Condescension is standing in front of you while you sit at your work bench, and she looks less than pleased.  Her usually coy demeanor is replaced with a somewhat harrowed annoyance, and her lips curl into a displeased sneer.  “Bro, there’s trouble in the mortal world.”

“Since when do you care about the mortal world?” you ask sardonically.

“Since that trouble involves Lord English,” she growls back.

In an instant, you drop the project that took you weeks to build on the ground and flashstep next to her.  “What do you mean trouble involving Lord English?” you demand.

“Clearly you haven’t been payin’ attention to that crush a yours.  You’ve been spendin’ so much time—partyin’,” she says back flatly.  “He’s back. Lord English.”

“But how—” you murmur.

“Damara, Kurloz, and Meulin did it behind ma back,” she replies.  “Much as I hate to say it, you’re the only one that can defeat him, Bro.  I’ve never seen and incubus with abilities quite as powerful as yours.”

“Where is he?” you ask.

“Third room on the right in the grand corridor.  Fifteen minutes north.  The ridge town in the summer aisles,” she says.

You’re gone before she can say any more.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > JAKE!** 

The Condesce is good on her directions, as usual.  As soon as you cross the portal into the mortal world, you sense the death and destruction all around you.  There is smoke in the air and the scent of burning flesh strewn across the countryside.

How many towns has Lord English already destroyed?

As you make your way north, you feel his ominous presence growing stronger, more powerful.  That foul bitter darkness that you never wanted to sense again encroaches into your very being like a plague, filling you with anger and dread.  If Lord English is here, what is he making your boyfriend do?

Your Jake.  Your happy and carefree boyfriend.

Almost boyfriend. Whatever.

Your vision is a little bit blinded, but you don’t care.  You’re furious at Lord English, and you’re equally upset at yourself for not bothering to at least _check_ on Jake these last hundred years.  He probably thinks you’ve forgotten about him.

It hits you like a frigid wave of dread.  When Jake told you his story of this event, he said that he was alone.  He mentioned the Felt.  He mentioned Lord English.  But he never once talked about Bro.  He didn’t mention you.

Has Jake forgotten about you?

You’re really not even sure how many years have passed in this realm.  Bro told you one hundred, but he probably rounded a little.  You only intended for it to be enough for Jake to lose his interest in you.  You never anticipated anything else.

But now isn’t the time to be thinking those thoughts.  The last thing you need is for Bro to video-feed himself into your shades and give you a lecture on “being too emo.”  You have a Jake to save.

So you make your way into the town, where Lord English has taken a prominent position in the very center.  Most of the homes are already destroyed, and you can smell the scent of blood and burning flesh in the air. 

And the bodies.  The bodies are everywhere.  This was a larger city, with bigger buildings than the ones that existed last time Lord English roamed freely around the world.  The chaos he has left in his wake has grown exponentially as has the world.

You aren’t going to waste any time.  You can’t allow yourself to be distracted by any of the mayhem going on, and you zero in your focus on Lord English.  The demonic monster is somehow less terrifying now than he was before. Now that you know you can rip out his soul, you’re filled with a sense of confidence that you didn’t have the last time you faced him.

But even if you didn’t know you could forcibly pull Lord English’s soul from Jake’s body, you would still do this anyway, because you could never abandon Jake.  Even if it meant giving up your life.

Your feet flashstep you to the monster in a matter of seconds.  “Hey, Lord English!  Turn your ugly face here!”

That might have been a little bit immature of you, but who cares? It’s not like anyone’s really listening to you right now.

Nobody except the monster, who is quick to whip his gaze over to you.  You have to remind yourself that at this point, Lord English doesn’t know you.  Perhaps he knows a bit of you, through what he has seen through Jake’s eyes, but he has never interacted with you.  He doesn’t know that he will someday be the reason you come back into the past.  That you will someday again rip his soul from his body and send him back into the future.

Fucking hell.  Time loops are confusing.

Rather than think any more about that, you focus on Lord English, on those terrifying flashing multicolored eyes, and you dip into his consciousness.

**_ANOTHER CHALLENGE?  YOU LOOK LIKE. THAT OTHER ONE I SQUASHED.  LIKE A BUG.  DIE BUG!_ **

Nice to know that Lord English’s impressive vocabulary and grammatical structure never changes. 

You take a moment to think about what he said, and in the fraction of a second it takes you to dodge a swing of his claws, you realize that “that other one” is probably Hal.  You did make him in your likeness, and he has been existing in this mortal world.

You suddenly try to remember the last time you interacted with Hal.  You think it was only a few years ago?  You think.  But you’re not sure.  And being in Derse has warped your sense of time.  You growl lowly, angered that Lord English would have done anything to your brother.  Because, you realize, that’s basically what Hal is to you now.  Another brother.

If Lord English did anything to him, he is going to pay.

Lord English continues to claw at you painstakingly slowly.  When he realizes that he’s getting nowhere, he removes a flashing multicolored gun from somewhere within the folds of his oversized green cloak and tries to shoot you with that.

The gun is faster than his lumbering swipes, but you’re still too quick for him.  Lord English levels more buildings as the never-ending bullets he spews from his machine gun follow you in a mechanical spray of destruction.  You focus on Lord English again, listening for his thoughts.

**_STAY STILL.  JUST STAY STILL.  AND FUCKING DIE._ **

You listen harder, focusing with all of the mental skills that you have accumulated over time.  But all you hear is that single solitary voice, like broken glass in your brain.  Desperately, you try to listen harder than you ever have, concentrating solely on those flashing multicolored eyes.  A small, panicked and angered breath escapes your lips as you realize it.

You can’t hear Jake.

Where the _fuck is Jake???_

How long did Lord English take over Jake’s body this time?  How long did Her Imperious Condescension allow him to destroy the mortal realm before she finally came to you and asked for your help?

Has it been so long that Jake has become lost in Lord English’s consciousness?

You force yourself to calm down, because you know that in the future Jake is fine.  Jake exists.  You’ll introduce him to Dirk someday, and everything will be fine.

The thoughts provide you a minimal amount of comfort, but they do little to settle your unease. 

You had better finish this fight fast.

So you flashstep squarely in front of the monster himself, feeling small but powerful against the enormous shadow he creates.  You pull the shades down from your face and capture his gaze in your own.

**_Mine. Lord English, you are FUCKING MINE._ **

You remember what Lord English’s putrid soul feels like, and you remember the exact frequency you will need to rip the soul from his body.  You don’t allow Lord English any more than half a moment’s surprise before you do it.

Electricity sparks from your fingertips, forming a bridge as you connect your hands to his soul from several feet away.  With an enraged cry, you pull the monster’s soul with all of your strength, tearing him quickly out of Jake’s body.

Like last time, the foul soul coalesces into a black tar-like consistency.  When you listen, you can tell that his soul has lost consciousness.  With one hand, you keep his soul suspended in the air, and you flashstep quickly to the body that the monster left behind.

Also, as before, the monstrous reptilian form melts slowly away, leaving behind the body of your beautiful Jake.  Like last time, Jake is silent and still.  He isn’t moving. He isn’t breathing. He isn’t anything.

Holy fuck are you scared.

You release Lord English’s amorphous soul, letting it fall to the ground with a squelching splat.  Carefully, you cradle Jake in your arms, feeling for his soul, any indication that he’s still alive.

It’s faint, but you think you catch a tiny glimmer of emerald green, deep within him.

**_Jake._ **

You reach out to him, to his soul, trying desperately to kindle its warm fire and wake up the man you love.  But something is stopping you.  Something is keeping his soul dampened, alive, but at bay. 

“ _Is that not adorable?  He thinks that he can wake his lover up._ ”

The Japanese voice hits your ears and a cold wave of dread runs through your body.  You came here alone, expecting Lord English to be alone.  You were so blinded with getting to Jake that you didn’t even consider that he might have company.

Turning around, you find Damara, decked in her favored red kimono, grinning at you in a sultry way.  Behind her, Kurloz looms like a massive impassible tower.  Beside him, Meulin stands, curled into his side.

This is absolutely not what you wanted to see.  What the fuck are you supposed to do?

“ _What the fuck indeed,_ ” Damara agrees, continuing to speak in Japanese.  “ _How about you die?_ ”

As one, Damara, Kurloz, and Meulin all lunge for you.

You’re just barely able to flashstep away with Jake in time.  Gently, you put him down on the concrete and keep moving. You know that they won’t do anything to Jake while their attention is on you, but how the fuck are you supposed to beat them?

You free your katana from its sheathe and parry Meulin’s claws.  Damara attaches herself to your back, driving her fangs into your neck.  You slam your body hard into the ground, hearing a few of her ribs crunch below you when you do so.  But she isn’t letting go.   With a grunt, you grasp her right arm with your right hand and roll to the left, hurling her away from you with your momentum and brute strength.  Finally, Damara goes flying off your back.

But Meulin is already back on your case, and her claws dig into your leg as she pulls you across the ground.  She’s fast. Holy fuck, is Meulin fast.  Your head is spinning as she tugs you across the ground, running and giving you the worst case of road-burn you think you’ve ever had.  The dirt flies up into your eyes, and all you can register for a few seconds is that your head is constantly thumping against the hard cobblestone pavement.

Gathering your wits to yourself, you curl in on yourself and grasp her claws with both hands, prying yourself free of them.  Your leg is bleeding, but you don’t have time to attend to that when you finally come to a stop on the ground.

Damara has already flung herself on top of you, pinning you down and fixing you with a far too sultry look.  You know what comes next, and you can’t be caught in her trap.

Closing your eyes, you voluntarily blind yourself to the world for a few moments.  You can’t look into her eyes.  If you get caught in her influence it’s all over.

Kicking you knee up, you dislodge her enough to free your hands. Groping blindly in front of you, you find her torso and throw her forcefully into the cobblestone road beside you.

Finally, you can open your eyes.

When you do, all you see is purple.

The purple deep depths of Kurloz’s eyes.  You see his silent smile as he effortlessly places thoughts into your mind, and you’re not sure whether they were always there or whether he just put them there now.

You’re on the wrong side, clearly. 

Why are you fighting them when they’re just trying to help Jake too? They’re trying to help Jake reach his full potential.  Once he’s Lord English, nothing will be able to stop him. He’ll be perfect. 

Isn’t that what you want?  Don’t you want Jake to be perfect?

You do want Jake to be perfect.  You think he already is perfect and couldn’t possibly be any more perfect, but you will become a tool of his perfection.  You’ll let your body and your hands and your soul pulling abilities make Jake the most perfect being imaginable.

You feel yourself rise to your feet, slowly walking toward where you threw Jake’s body.  Your leg is on fire with pain, but you don’t care.  It was your fault that Meulin had to do that.  She needed to bring you to your senses. You don’t blame her.

Finally, you reach Jake, and you slowly come to your knees beside him.  The bright green flame of his life is still subdued, but that’s perfect.  This is all perfect.  If you put Lord English back in him now, then Jake doesn’t have to worry about anything at all. 

Lord English will take care of everything.

Lord English will make Jake perfect.

You extend a hand toward Lord English’s unconscious soul and pull him to you.  Slowly, you bring his soul down toward Jake.

And then something bats your hand away.

“Can’t let you do that, Bro.  Not till Jake’s awake.”

You turn angrily to the source of the voice, swinging your arm (that’s still holding Lord English’s soul) out at him.  The offending thing jumps back, dodging your attack easily.  “Woah easy there. That was so not the nicest greeting.  I’d say there’s a 99.1% chance that you’re being mind-controlled right now.”

You release Lord English’s soul, letting it fall back to the ground, and turn toward the offensive being that dares make such accusations about you.

“What’s that?  No cutting remarks?  No sick burns?”  The thing asks with mock surprise.  “Make that a 99.99% chance.”

You’re lunging at him with your katana in hand in the blink of an eye.  But somehow, he manages to get the better of you.  He’s not even carrying a weapon, but he moves in perfect time to dodge your attacks, swings of your sword, punches and kicks.  All of your surprise attacks aren’t a surprise to him.

It’s almost as if he can read your mind.

And before you know it, you’re on the ground, struggling to get up while he sits atop you.  You can’t let him hold you back.  You have to get UP and do this!  You have to put Lord English into Jake’s body.  Jake has to be perfect.

Kurloz steps forward and you know that everything will be all right.  He’ll make this annoying creature see the truth just like he helped you see the truth too.  You watch as they lock eyes.

A few tense seconds pass by, as Kurloz fixes his eyes onto your nemesis.

“Funny thing about being a robot, you don’t have to worry about things like mind control,” he says, then looks up at the sky.  “Any time, Rezi.”

Suddenly, a large fiery-red dragon with magnificent gleaming scales swoops down and bites the top half of Kurloz’s body off.  It snaps at the flailing torso and arms several times before deciding it dislikes the taste and spitting it out into mangled pieces on the ground next to its forgotten legs.

Color suddenly bleeds back into your vision, as the world comes back into a jarring forced clarity.  It takes you all of half a second to realize who’s sitting on you.

It’s Hal.

“Hal, get your fucking heavy robot ass off my back!” you growl at him.

“There’s the Dirk I know,” Hal says, rising smoothly and offering his hand to help you up.

You don’t take it, cause no.  But you do look at him incredulously.

Despite self-proclaiming himself a robot, Hal passes as a human beautifully.  He’s wearing clothes that, you _think_ , are fitting for the times.  You haven’t been in the mortal world for a while, so you’re not really sure. But unlike you, he’s chosen to color his hair jet black.  He still wears the same ironic shades as you, and his smirk is just as cocky as you remember.

You’re about to ask Hal how he found you, but you remember that he can see everything you can see and hear your thoughts through the link with your shades.  Damn it.  That’s why he could anticipate all your moves.

“Yep,” he agrees.  “I’m just fuckin’ perfection like that.  Raw power.  Strength.  Beauty.”

As Hal goes on to talk about how amazing he is, you notice in your peripheral vision that the giant red dragon doesn’t hesitate to fully devour Meulin and a couple of Damara’s limbs.  But after a taste of the succubus, the dragon decides to chew and spit out her masticated body into a slobbery heap on the cobblestone.  In a matter of seconds, Damara expires into dust.

“Lord English said he squished you,” you murmur.  “Like a bug.”

“He thought he squished me,” Hal says, and you can tell he’s rolling his eyes behind his shades.  “But he squished me into the dirt.  With my body, that’s like squishing you into a lake.”

You don’t disagree.  You built Hal’s body to last.

The dragon stomps over to you, and in a shimmer of light, it turns back into a familiar sight. You almost smile. 

It’s Terezi.  Of course.  Who else would it be? 

Terezi is thankfully clothed, though you really don’t understand how.  She’s wearing her typical red shades, which leads you to believe that whatever caused her to be blind has already happened.  Her clothes are long and flowing crimson garments, befitting this era, you believe.  Despite being a female, she chooses to wear pants, which you don’t knock in the least. 

She’s a dragon. You’re glad she’s wearing anything at all.

Terezi sticks out her tongue at Hal and complains, “did you know exploding demons taste really gross?  Like super gross.”

“Yeah, the grossest of gross,” Hal agrees.  “My tongue sensors tell me that every time.”

“You liar,” Terezi snickers and shoves him lightly.  You notice that Hal allows himself to be pushed and stumble a bit.  You’ve missed out on a large chunk of their relationship, but you can see how they would get along well.

“You really are a dragon,” you comment.  You’ve never actually seen Latula or Terezi turn into dragons, though Bro always told you that they could.

“Sure am!” she agrees, sniffing at you.  “And who might you be, Mr. Orange?”

“Bro Strider,” you respond, holding out your hand to her.

Terezi grins at you widely, showing off her rows of sharp teeth.  “Nice to meet you, Bro!” She sticks her hand out just a tad to the left of yours.  You move yours a couple inches over so that you can grab her hand and shake it.

“You too, but I’m afraid I don’t have time to talk right now,” you say. 

You really don’t.  When you turn back around, you find that the pile of Lord English is starting to move a little bit.  He’s beginning to regain consciousness, and you have to trap him back inside Jake before that happens.

Quickly, you make your way to where you left Jake, kneeling beside him and collecting him into your arms.  You place your hands on his face and focus on his soul again.  This time, the people who were influencing him are all gone.  His bright green soul burns radiantly, and it only takes a slight nudge to wake it up.

Jake moans softly.  You glance over at Hal.  What are you supposed to do?  Hal shrugs at you.

You look back at Jake, who is just beginning to flutter open his brilliant viridian eyes.  He looks at you, and it’s a look of confusion.  “Strider?”

Jake remembers you.  Jake remembers you, and it’s the most wonderful beautiful feeling you’ve had in the last century.

“Yeah, I’m here,” you admit.  “I had to take Lord English’s soul out of you, but I’m going to put him back in you now. Do you understand?”

Jake comes to his senses quickly and nods.  “Yes, please hurry.”

You don’t hesitate to pull Lord English’s soul to you, wiggling and writhing, and press it into Jake’s chest.  You cringe, hearing Jake cry out in pain as he traps the demon inside him again.  The dark foul energy of Lord English’s soul swirls around him, piercing through his skin and bones, into his very essence. You wish that there was something you could do to stop his agony, but all you can do is hold him through it.

Jake clings to you, his eyes pressed tightly shut to ward off the burning.

A few moments later, it’s over.  The land is calm once again, and all that is left is Jake, blinking up at you with those fucking sinfully gorgeous green eyes.  He sighs, “it’s done.”

You stay beside him, holding him, longer than you probably should.  He was in pain, and you don’t want to leave him alone.

You don’t ever want to leave him alone again.

You’re just so fucking happy to see him that you don’t want to let him go. 

It’s been so long.  So very long. 

And you were _so broken._  

But now that’s over.

And Jake’s here.

And somehow everything’s going to be all right.

And before you realize what you’re doing, you lean over and do it.

You kiss him.

Jake makes a small surprised sound, but it isn’t long before he is pulling himself to you, tentatively melding his lips to yours.

He’s kissing you back.  You fucking knew it. Jake’s kissing you back, which means that he _likes you_ despite the hundred years apart, and he always has and—

And.

Oh shit.

Oh shit shit shit. 

You’ve fucked up.

Quickly, you pull away from him, and you try to ignore the confused expression in those beautiful emerald eyes.  “Strider?” he questions again.

You pull him into a hug, embracing him tightly.  Remembering what it feels like to hold the man you love.  It feels so fucking good.  “Jake, I love you,” you whisper to him fiercely.

Jake returns the embrace, and the feeling of his warm arms circling around your back makes you want to cry.  “I know, Strider, I—”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper quietly.

Before Jake can respond, you pull away from him and tip down your shades.  Quickly, you catch his eyes with your own.

**_Mine. Jake… you’re mine._ **

Jake's brilliant green eyes lose their focus, even though they’re still looking at you.  His soul is wide open, pliable, and moldable to your suggestion.

You do it before you lose your resolve.

**_Forget._ **

You take it away.  His memory of this encounter. 

You want to take what you can of him being trapped inside Lord English, but you find that there isn’t much to take.  It looks like Damara, Kurloz, and Meulin dampened his soul so much that he wasn’t aware of much anyway.

You erase his memories for what feels like forever, gently brushing them free of Jake’s mind.  You’re never so careful with any of your other lovers.  Like tearing out a weed from the ground, you rip their memories of you out of their brain.  But with Jake, you are cautious as an archaeologist brushing away the dirt from a priceless fossil.  You don’t want to damage anything.  You couldn’t stand it if you hurt Jake.

And yet, aren’t you?  By taking away his memories, aren’t you keeping him from being himself?  Didn’t you promise him a long time ago that you wouldn’t do this to him ever again?

You are such a filthy, disgusting excuse for a being.  You loathe yourself for doing this to him.

But you have no choice.  For the sake of the timeline, it has to be done.

When it’s finally over, you want to scream in rage.  Seeing his glazed over expression, knowing that _you did this to him_ that you _took away his memory of your kiss_ eats you inside.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder.  It’s Hal. You don’t have to look to know.

“C’mon, Bro.  Give him back to himself, and let’s go,” he says.  There’s no mischief in his voice.  No happiness, no cockiness, no pranks.  Hal knows how much this hurts you.  He knows because it probably hurts him too.

So you do the only thing you can do.  You carry him out into a grassy field nearby and place him in the shade of a leafy green tree.  He looks so peaceful.  So comfortable.  You’d do anything to just be allowed to stay with him and talk the day away like you used to.

You capture Jake’s gaze with your tangerine eyes and give him back.

**_Yours. Be you, Jake._ **

Before he can fully come to, you flashstep away.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Be a shitty parent** 

You really aren’t trying to be a shitty parent anymore, but you find that it’s hard not to be after letting your brothers sleep 600 years of their lives away.  After the incident with Lord English, Hal and Terezi know it’s best to leave you to your own devices.  Hal promises to keep in touch better, and you don’t doubt that he will make good on that offer to annoy the living shit out of you.

At long last, you approach the bed where you laid your brothers to rest centuries ago.  Carefully, you approach Dirk and sit beside him on the bed.  It’s not like you haven’t come to visit them before.  You keep the room clean.  You make sure that the dust doesn’t accumulate on your sleeping brothers.

But it’s been so long since you’ve actually seen them. You miss the little shits.

So carefully, you collect Dirk to you and search his soul for the tiny orange flame that you left behind.  When you find it, you slowly, gently kindle it awake.

But something unexpected happens.  As the flame of his soul grows, you feel your own strength fading away.  By the time his soul is back to the bright tangerine flame that you remember, you find yourself completely wiped.

Exhausted, you lay in the bed beside him and fall asleep.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Be a less shitty parent** 

The Condesce is more than happy to see you again.  She congratulates you on taking care of Lord English again and offers you both her blood and passion as a reward.  After visiting her, you think you have the strength to finally wake up Dirk.

You should have expected it, really.  What, did you think that there wouldn’t be any consequences to letting them sleep for centuries?

Again, you collect Dirk in your arms and slowly nudge his soul awake.

Dirk gasps as his eyelashes flutter open, revealing his bright tangerine eyes.  “Bro—” he murmurs, and his voice croaks like a frog from lack of use.  He coughs, and you wince as you see a few dust particles fly into the air around you.

“Shh, it’s ok, Dirk.  I’m here,” you say, gathering him into a gentle hug.  You feed him your positive thoughts and your energy as you caress his hair and press his cheek against yours.  “Bro’s never going to leave you again.”

Dirk holds you for a long time, absorbing your energy and feelings, and taking comfort in the fact that you’re there.  “Promise?” he finally whispers back.

“Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting out of hand, so it had to be truncated here. Next chapter, my goal is to make it to the beginning of the story! Hahahaha oh time loops, I love you.
> 
> Finals are over; thanks for your patience and your support through those! It helped! =)
> 
> Please continue to let me know your thoughts, feelings, etc. about the story. I still love to see them!


	24. Growing Up

**Dirk == > Be guilty as fuck** 

You are guilty as fuck.  Because while you keep your promise to Dirk, you continue to fail Dave.

That’s right.  It took so much of your energy to wake up Dirk that you don’t really have it in you to bring Dave back yet.  You feel the weakness in your bones.  You’re slower than before, and you know you don’t have the strength to bring your youngest brother back yet.

So you take Dirk and Lil’ Cal and move somewhere that you can both pleasantly live while you regain your strength.

You move to Texas.  It’s familiar.  It’s comfortable.  And you remember spending several happy childhood years here.  It’s where you fully picked up your southern accent, and you know that Dirk will develop his for a nice long time.

You get yourselves a small nondescript house in a small nondescript town with a stable portal to Derse just a few minutes away.  You regain your strength and watch as Dirk grows into a strong and healthy adolescent.  You train him in swordsmanship, and you teach him how to improve his flashstepping.  In your weakened state, you’re not the best at it, but you’re still more than a match for Dirk.  He continues to progress.

Life is good.

Dirk attends the local school and quickly becomes displeased with the lack of knowledge in this realm.  You take him back to Derse on occasion to visit the Condesce’s impressive library. Dirk quickly becomes engrossed in the detailed writing and learns to read the language of Derse proficiently. 

Knowing about your upcoming struggles with Damara, you also teach him Japanese.  Dirk thinks that your nonsense language is silly at first, but he eventually changes his mind.  He picks it up quickly when you drop him into that pocket of the world called _Japan_ and leave him to survive on his own for a few months.  All at the tender age of twelve.

You never let Dirk out of your sight, naturally.  But you never let him see you either.  Centuries of stalking Jake English have made you _very_ good at that.

You come to Dirk every few days to feed him, but other than that, you leave him alone.  You watch as he finds his way in the world.  He sleeps several nights outside before different people take him in and teach him their ways.  He works on a few farms and builds strength that you know will come in handy.

He learns Japanese.

On his thirteenth birthday, you take him out for authentic Japanese sushi and bring him home.

You watch as Dirk grows stronger, smarter, and taller.  You watch as he matures.  And the question you had dreaded comes all too soon.

It’s Dirk’s sixteenth birthday, and he lounges on the couch, sipping a cup filled with your blood distastefully.  He has taken to wearing short sleeved shirts and plain dark brown trousers so that he can fit in with the locals if he has to.  He doesn’t try very often, but when he does, you’re pleased with his success.

You are sitting in a reading chair across the room, sharpening two katanas.  One is yours, and the other is your father’s.  You aren’t sure how, but you know that today is going to be a big day.  Like it or not.

You are wearing clothing similar to Dirk’s.  A white short sleeved shirt and black pants.  As usual, you are wearing the orange hat that Jake gave you.  You’ve worn it since he gave it to you, and grudgingly, you put away the orange scarf he gifted you long ago.  You tucked the precious piece of fabric away in the dresser back in Derse next to where Dave is still asleep.

Your thoughts are such when Dirk finally looks at you and says, “hey, Bro.”

“Yeah?” you respond, flicking your gaze at him.

“Today’s my sixteenth birthday.  Did you forget?”  he asks.

“Nope,” you say.

Dirk doesn’t look entirely pleased with your answer.  “Bro, I’m sixteen,” he says flatly.

“Yep, you are,” you agree.

Silence fills the room for a good minute.

“Bro, I’m sixteen and I’m an _incubus_ and I shouldn’t be feeding from your hugs anymore!” Dirk finally shouts.  “You can drop me off in Japan for a few months on my own, but you can’t show me how to feed myself?  Why haven’t you taught me anything about that?  _Why?_ ”

Again, you are left with silence.  Slowly, you put down your katana and look at Dirk.  You remember this moment.  You remember being positively pissed that Bro hadn’t said a word about how to feed from others.  That he hadn’t shown you how to love or _anything_ about your incubus side.  He fed you with his hugs, and you could feel his love for you in them, but that wasn’t enough.

And now, sitting on the other side of the room, you understand why Bro never showed you any of those things.  You never brought it up, because Dirk is your little brother.  You are fiercely protective of him, and you don’t want him to have to lose his innocence yet.  You want him to be the happy little boy that you remember meeting back at your parents’ house.

But you have to face it, Dirk hasn’t been that boy for a long time.  He’s far more capable and mature than any of the other mortals or demons his age.  If you didn’t know better, you would guess that he was already around 100 years old.

So you sigh.  Now you fully understand both sides of the coin, and you know what you must do.

“I have two gifts for you this year,” you murmur.  “Nothing cheesy like the last 7 years.  No cake and streamers.  No jugglers or fanfare or any of that.  These gifts you’ll keep for the rest of your life.”

Dirk doesn’t question how you know that. He’s long become used to your mind reading, and he probably figures that this is just some aspect of that.

Solemnly, you pick up your father’s katana and walk over to where Dirk is sitting.  You place the katana, sheath and all, into his hands.  “Happy Birthday, Dirk.  This katana is yours to keep.  It was our father’s.”

“It was—dad’s?” Dirk questions softly, turning the sheath over in his hands carefully, as if he’s worried about damaging it.

“Yeah,” you confirm and continue. “It won’t break like the other ones you’ve had.  It will cut through almost anything.”

Dirk’s eyes widen in surprise.  “Really, anything?”  He unsheathes the katana and admires the deadly blade.

“Just about,” you agree.  “There are some magic wards that will repel it.  And Lord English.”

Dirk rolls his eyes at you.  “Bro, I’m too old to be scared by your stories.  Save us both the embarrassment of your trying.”

How you wish that they were just stories.  But you hold your hands in the air and relinquish.  “All right.  You’ll have to see for yourself how strong it is.”

Dirk, quick and smug little shit that he is, puts away the katana and faces you again. “You said you had _two_ gifts for me.  What’s the other one?”

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Convince yourself that you’re doing the right thing** 

Rufioh agreed long ago to teach Dirk everything he needed to know about sex.  He was never sore that you ran out on him and didn’t come back.  Rufioh doesn’t hold grudges like that.

Dirk knows who Rufioh is too, you’ve chilled a little bit with him.  You never brought Dirk to any of Rufioh’s parties, though.  Far too risky.

Watching your little bro feed is not something that you really want to do, but you have no choice.  Rufioh isn’t a weakling, but if Dirk isn’t careful, he could kill him tonight.  It’s a risk that he will always run when he feeds his incubus side, and you have to show him where the line is.

You spend the night carefully guiding Dirk about how to control himself.  You watch him lose his innocence and successfully feed himself for the first time.

You’re there every time he feeds for the first few months, helping him control himself and pulling him back if he ever begins to lose himself.  You have to stop him a few times, but you don’t blame him.  The demonic urges are deep and dark.  You know very well how difficult it can be to keep them in check.

Finally, Dirk goes a full year without you having to intervene.  You decide that he’s finally capable of feeding his incubus side without your help.

In the time that you haven’t had to feed Dirk, you’ve noticed that you’ve become stronger too.  You grow faster, more powerful.  Before long, you feel like you’ve managed to work back up to where you were before you woke Dirk up.

But you’re not yet ready to wake Dave.  Besides, you remember this part in your life.  You remember the years you and Bro spent fighting the evils of the universe together.  You remember the day that Bro forced you to help him stagger back to Derse so that he could wake up Dave.

You’re really not looking forward to that day.  But if your memory serves you correctly, it is still a while away.

A few more years pass, and you start training Dirk to take out the forces of evil.  You explain to him how demons will return to Derse if they are killed, and that it is your responsibility to keep them in line.  You know that somewhere out there Jake is doing the same, but you don’t tell Dirk about that.

Together, you two are an unstoppable team.  You relocate to The City that has the most portals from Derse and hence the most demonic problems.  The city where you will eventually build Haven.

At first, you don’t have an office.  You just have you and Dirk, and a shitty little apartment on the rooftop floor of an ugly brick building.  The rent is half-off because the roof has water damage and leaks every time it rains.

After the first rainstorm, you and Dirk spend a night reroofing the place.  Once you finish, you not only have a leak-proof apartment, but you also have a prime arena for a strife.  You never gave up on the unexpected strife with Dirk over the years.  You’ve taught him to stay on his toes at all times, and you know that his reflexes are fantastic for it.

In time, you notice that the exact location where Bro built haven is available for lease.  You decide to take a look.

The property looks like it used to be a bar at one point in time.  At least, you see the leftover splintered wood from where the bar probably once was.  It also looks like the place has been painted over at least six times.  You notice brown, lime green, salmon, bright yellow, and a deep red beneath the faded blue walls in a couple of prominent holes.  The echoes of your feet reverberate off the bare walls and cracked tiled floor.  A rat scurries off into a hole in the corner.

You smile.  It’s perfect.

You and Dirk start renovating the place immediately.  It takes months before its ready for you to open, and in the first few days, the only things you can really boast are clean bathrooms and a moderately functional bar.

But that’s fine. You don’t really expect any patrons anyway.  In fact, you’re not really sure _why_ you bought this place, other than the fact that Bro did.

You sit in the plain wooden office chair you bought for yourself in the back office.  If they existed, you’d totally have purchased one of those fancy ones that spin around in circles.  Leather-bound, just for extra ironies.  But this is still the past, and those don’t exist yet.

Since you have no informants other than your keen incubus senses, work is slow.  You’ve given Dirk the task of purchasing and stocking the bar with liquor while you sit in Bro’s office—correction, _your office_ —and ponder.

Why did you buy this place?

Why did Bro buy this place?

What was he thinking?

You try not to sigh in relief when the lenses of your sunglasses go dark, but you do anyway.  Bro’s face appears before your eyes, and this time he’s grinning at you.  “See? I told you things would be better next time I saw you.”

“Yeah, they are, but I still don’t know why I picked up this hole-in-the-wall joint,” you say, spreading your arms at the barren room.  “Care to enlighten me?”

“Really?” Bro tisks. “Dirk, I thought you were smarter than that.”

You frown at him.  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on now,” he says in a chiding voice.  “Look around you.  Isn’t there something about your office that’s— _missing_?”

Slowly, you look around.  “A gold-plated sign with my name on it?”

Bro snickers.  “Dirk will get that for you in due time.  C’mon.  Think _bigger_.  What’s missing?”

Again, you look around the room, thinking of everything that used to be in Bro’s office.  You look at the open area of the wall where you’ll eventually pick up a comfortable brown couch.  There’s empty space in the corner for the filing cabinets you don’t have yet.  And your desk isn’t quite as big as the one you’ll someday have.  There’s a small cabinet in the corner where you’ll someday get a minifridge next to the—

You gasp.

“Figured it out?” Bro asks.

“The closet,” you murmur, standing and walking over to the solid wall where Bro’s closet was.  You didn’t even realize that it wasn’t there, because you have never been inside.  You never wanted to find out what horrors Bro kept in there.

But right now, there is no closet.  There’s only a brick wall.

“Mmhmm, you’ll need a sledgehammer to get through that, but I promise it’s worth it,” Bro says.  A short silence fills the metaphorical space between you two.  Finally, he asks, “how’ve you been holdin’ up?”

“Doin’ all right,” you murmur.  “Easier now that Dirk can feed himself responsibly.”

You kind of want to thank him for pulling you out of the shit you were into a century ago.  You don’t.

“You’re welcome,” he responds anyway.

Bro leaves you, and you find a sledgehammer.  Sort of.  It’s really more like a giant chunk of scrap metal that you heave into the place.  Dirk’s back with the liquor.  He raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s stocking the shelves, but he doesn’t ask.

You wait until Dirk leaves for home before you pick up the giant chunk of metal again.  You’re certain there’s some witty phrase about a wrecking ball you could use here.  You know that Dave would think of one in the future, but you don’t really care about that right now.  You want to know what Bro has been hiding all these years.  What you will be hiding.

With a giant heave, you throw the metal into the wall.  It crashes through the brick, but you never hear it hit the floor.

Curiously, you walk over to the wreckage of the wall and gaze inside.  What you find inside makes you laugh.  “No way.  No _fucking_ way.”

Inside your soon-to-be-closet is your very own portal to Derse.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Start up Haven!** 

Ok, but you’re not making a sign for it. Not yet. You don’t want to attract too much attention from the mortals, so you keep the place as nondescript as possible.

You patch up the hole in your wall with some lumber before Dirk sees it.  While your brother is out for one reason or another, you carefully finish crafting your very own closet to Derse.

The room was clearly sealed off from the other parts of the main building.  You’d have felt pretty shitty if you busted open the wall and landed in the business next door.  But somehow, this place was constructed with a three foot walled-in radius around the portal.  You aren’t sure who the original designers were, but you could kiss them.

 **timaeusTestified [TT]** **began pestering** **timaeusTestified [TT]** at 5:12

**TT: I’ll cash that in next time I’m in town.**

“No fucking way,” you murmur in response to your shades.  Furrowing your brows you say, “I thought you weren’t listening to all my thoughts and conversations anymore?”

**TT: When did I ever say that?  Never.  That’s when.**

“How did you know—” you begin, but Hal knows what you’re going to say. 

**TT: Dude, a long time ago.  Bro downloaded all of the other AR’s memories into me, remember?  I scoped this place out way before the portal even opened.**

You smile softly.  “Lookin’ out for me after all this time, huh?”

**TT: You know it.  Now if you don’t mind, I have a life to get back to.**

You let him get back to it.

With Derse at your fingertips, you also have the Condesce conveniently close at hand.  Once she finds out you’re willing to do all of her dirty work in the mortal world, she is quick to inform you of the major trouble, especially any trouble in The City.  Since she can see through the eyes of her demonic minions, her information is extremely useful.

The gateway to Derse also allows you to go back and see Dave a lot.  And you do.  You know he was such a shit little kid, but you feel terrible about keeping him asleep so long.  He’s _your_ shit little kid now, and you want to do right by him.

But the time isn’t right.  You’ll know when you have to do it.  You’ll be weakened for years after you do it, and you can’t afford that right now.

You and Dirk make the place presentable within another month or two, and it isn’t long before you decide to start recruiting people.

You keep your promise to Porrim and Kanaya.  They’re the first ones you seek out.  You find them in a city not too far away.  It isn’t hard to persuade them to come.  You even get a bonus gift with them.  Two of Porrim’s close friends happened to be staying with them, and they are just as excited about coming to The City.

“Fucking hell.  Tell me you aren’t going to follow this bulgelicker to THE CITY with the MOST Derse portals and foul demonic spawn spewing their noxious reproductive fluids everywhere?  I’d rather choke on my own feces and die than go with him.”

“I’ve missed you too, Karkat,” you say, your face a perfect deadpan.

Karkat’s eyes widen. “How the fuck does he know my name?”

“Mind reader,” you inform him.  “Which means I know you’re full of shit and you’re going to come with us.”

He does.  So does his cousin Kankri, who seems a bit sheltered but nice.  Kankri looks positively thrilled when he sees the bar and can’t wait to try out his hand at bartending.  Inwardly, you cringe a little, but you let it happen.

Porrim and Kanaya help the interior of the place actually look more comfortable and less like a functional factory.  Karkat sets up the offices in the back, and he and Kanaya actually make a pretty good demon fighting team.  Karkat has some wicked skills with sickles that make him no small foe.  Kanaya has taken your sword-fighting lessons from centuries ago and applied them to a more direct approach.  A giant broadsword to be precise.  She’s sacrificed some of her speed for power.  It’s an approach that you think fits her well.  You watch her broad powerful swings when she takes on a few targets, and it’s easy to see how she will someday be enamored with a chainsaw.

You don’t give them any targets that are too crazy, but you know that you can count on them to get the job done well.

In time, Hal even comes back with Terezi and her older sister Latula.  Hal looks completely different, again.  His hair is light brown and styled into a short cropped fashion.  He’s also taken on a slightly darker skin-tone.  You have no idea what sort of look he’s going for, and you don’t care.  Hal seems happy, and that’s all that matters.

Though the dragon sisters stay to bartend and knock out demons with you, Hal takes his leave shortly after arriving.  “There’s more to see. More to do.  I haven’t even started to live,” he tells you, when you ask.

“Terezi?” You ask him, wondering why he is leaving her behind.

“Story for another time, Bro,” he says with a telling grin.

“All right. When you get bored, you know where to find me,” you say, giving him a handshake goodbye.

You don’t see Hal again for a very long time.

Though you were off to a bumpy start, the place easily falls into the familiar grind that you remember.  Except, instead of simply accepting the missions from Bro, now _you’re_ the one talking to the Condesce and finding the most problematic targets in The City.  You’re the one writing them down on little pieces of paper and handing them to your employees.  You’re the one that makes sure that nobody has a target that’s over their head.

It’s no surprise that your handwriting looks almost exactly like Dirk’s.  It takes some concentration at first, but you purposely make your handwriting look like the shittiest chicken-scratch you can.  It’s legible but just barely.  Dirk never suspects a thing, and neither do your other co-workers. 

The only one who you thought might know is Terezi, since she spent a century or so with Hal.  But it seems Hal never told her your secret.  You never once hear it in her thoughts.

Nobody knows about your— _affiliation—_ with Her Imperious Condescension either.  You think that some may suspect you get your information from her.  You hear it in Karkat’s thoughts, in particular.  But they don’t have any proof.  They don’t know about your portal, which you now keep behind a locked door.  The only ones who have ever bothered to ask what is behind your closet door are Porrim and Karkat.  You tip down your shades enough to wink at them and tell them they don’t want to know.

They never ask again.

You wear the orange hat that Jake gave you all the time.  You let your hair grow a bit longer than before and you forego styling it in the morning.  After all, what do you care? You’re shoving it under a hat every day. 

After telling Kanaya about them, she makes you perfectly tailor-fitted white dress shirts that you wear every day, popping your collar in that way you remember Bro doing.  You always thought it was douchey before, and you guess it probably still is, but you _like_ something about it.  It makes you feel more like Bro.  More like the person who can actually run this place and protect the people of The City.

Two centuries pass by. 

By safeguarding the people in The City, you do your part to keep the mortal realm safe.  Haven, though you haven’t officially named it that yet, starts to flourish, attracting all sorts of demonic patrons.  The good kind, of course.  You make it clear that the other kind is not welcome.  It’s easy for you to tell them apart with your telepathy. 

It’s also easy for you to pick the information from them, without anyone knowing.  Latula, Kankri, and Terezi all work the bar-front, and they all do a superb job of collecting info for you.  Rarely do they find anything that you didn’t already pick from your patrons’ brains yourself, but on occasion it does happen.

Money comes to you by the handfuls as the bar and lounge business picks up.  Even if it didn’t, money is never an issue, as the Condesce has more of it than you could ever want.  Derse currency isn’t quite the same, but you quickly figure out that gold is gold anywhere you go.  You pay your employees well.  You all live well.

Life is simple, until Dirk begins to miss one too many work days.  Business can be slow sometimes, and you don’t mind him taking the days off at first.  But disappearing for a month is a bit much.  Also, Dirk only left you with a short ominous note.  “At Rufioh’s.”

You may be a shitty parent, but you recognize a problem when you see it.

Once you realize that Dirk isn’t coming back on his own, you find him at one of Rufioh’s parties in the mortal realm.  You know that Rufioh and his brother Tavros both feed off the party-high, consuming it like the energy you take from others during sex.  But when you notice that several people in the room have literally partied themselves to death, you frown.

Rufioh is your good friend and a dependable lover for Dirk, but you can’t let this continue.

You shut the party down and forcibly extricate Dirk from the premises kicking and screaming like a little kid.  You hate to do it, but you force Rufioh to “decide” to return to Derse.  He looks apologetic when you show him to the nearest portal back into the other dimension, but he doesn’t complain and he’s not angry.

Rufioh was always chill like that.

At the time, you don’t consider the consequences, but you soon come to realize that you left your brother without a source of food.  Dirk is miserable as he seeks out others just to feed himself, and that’s exactly how he lands himself in one of the worst situations of all.

“What did you say his name was?” you ask, hoping that you heard him wrong.

“Caliborn,” Dirk repeats.

“And you two are a thing now?” you mutter back.

“Yep,” he says.

You groan.  Loudly.  Karkat peeks in through the doorway to your office curiously for a second before disappearing again.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Dirk asks, sounding just like the angsty teenager that he never really was.  No, you take it back.  He’s always been this way. He never grew out of it.

“I care because Caliborn is bad for you, trust me,” you say.

“What, did you read that in my mind or something?  Well read this,” Dirk responds crossly, pointing to his forehead. “F-U-C-K Y-O-U!  That’s what I think about your ‘caring.’  If you cared so much, you wouldn’t have sent Rufioh away.”

You sigh and try not to explode at him.  Goddamnit.  You kind of hoped that the Caliborn thing would never happen.  That you and Dirk, and eventually Dave, would never have to deal with the mess that his relationship is going to be.

But it is a thing.  And you can’t stop it. 

“Fine,” you sigh back.  “But don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

The following months are hell for Dirk.  Caliborn is the worst boyfriend on the face of the planet.  You are almost positive of that fact.

Caliborn is a demon from Derse, and though you wouldn’t say he’s catastrophically evil, he has a terrible mean-streak.  It’s clear that he only cares about himself and enjoys the pain of others.  He’s easily one of the biggest sadists you’ve ever met.  That’s saying something, considering you know the Condesce.

Dirk starves several times before Caliborn decides to engage in some “risqué” behavior with him.  Like holding his hand.  He is also very possessive and forbids Dirk from seeing or feeding from anyone other than him.

Suddenly, you realize why Dirk will someday thoughtlessly starve himself with Jake.  While Jake will be too oblivious to notice Dirk’s needs, that is not the case with Caliborn.  Caliborn ignores them on purpose. 

Also, if Caliborn is this way, Dirk will probably assume that all of his lovers will be this possessive.  This callous.  This awful.

You hate this little bastard more than anything else.  He’s hurting your brother, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it but let this awful relationship run its course.

Left with nowhere to go, Dirk comes to you.  You feed him your blood and your love in your hugs.  Dirk is stubborn to a default, and he won’t leave his “boyfriend.”  But if he doesn’t feed, he’ll die.  You can’t let that happen.

So you put up with feeding your brother again.  It’s cumbersome, and you have to make more trips to the Condesce than you would like, but you make it happen.  Dirk continues to work every night, and he’s still a reliable partner.  So you guess that counts for something.

Life continues, and time passes.  You run the place, calling the shots.  Even though they all started out as friends, somehow everyone begins to see you as “the boss.”  You still consider everyone that works for you dear friends, but you step up to the plate and take on the role of the leader.  You’ll do that for the sake of The City.

* * *

 

 **Dirk == > Meet Feferi** 

Meet who?

You end up visiting the Condesce far more than you would like to feed yourself and your brother.  She doesn’t seem to mind at all.

So it throws you off when you come to visit her one time and she is less than happy to see you.  She lifts her head and scowls in your direction. 

You raise an eyebrow at her.  “Tired of seeing me?”

“No,” she growls lowly.  “My _sister_ wants to see you.”

“—you have a sister?” you ask, surprised.

“Hello there!”

The bright and sunny voice is such a stark contrast to the Condesce’s that you are thrown off.  A girl who doesn’t seem to be much older than sixteen appears next to the Condesce and waves cheerfully at you.  The two look very similar.  Both have the same darker skin tone and long untamed black hair.  Their eyes are both just a bit wider than normal, and they both seem to love bright fuchsia lipstick.  This girl is wearing a black tanktop with magenta lines similar to her sister, but she has on a flowing light blue and green skirt that rolls like the sea in a way you think would make Kanaya jealous.

She smiles sunnily at you and holds out her hand.  “I’m Feferi!  I’m the ruler of Prospit!”

You’re a little floored, but you don’t let it show.  Instead, you shake her hand politely and say, “Bro Strider.  What can I do for you?”

Feferi takes a second to glance at her sister and giggle, “you’re right, he _is_ a cute one.”

“Hands off,” the Condesce growls back.

“I’d never,” she promises, and even crosses her heart.  Or what you assume is her heart.  You’re really not completely clear on their anatomy.

“Get on with it.  I’m gettin’ bored,” the Condesce sighs.

Feferi turns her attention back to you and says, “Bro, I’ve heard about the things you can do.  We need you.”

You take less than a second to process that request.  “I certainly hope that doesn’t involve visiting Prospit.  I have a feeling that place is bad for my health.”

“Naturally,” Feferi agrees.  “But I am the ruler of Prospit.  I can grant you immunity from its holy effects.”

Somehow you don’t think you’re getting out of this, but you ask anyway, “what do you need me for?”

Feferi leans in closer to you, until her face is only a couple inches away from yours.  There’s a look of wild excitement in her eyes and a far too happy smile on her mouth as she asks, “is it true you can _pull souls_ even _better_ than the _legendary Dave Strider_???”

Again, you’re surprised, but you don’t let it show.  “My dad?” you ask softly.

She nods quickly and enthusiastically.

“He can,” the Condesce answers for you.

“WONDERFUL!” She exclaims.  The whites of her pointy teeth are both blinding and frightening at such close proximity.

Her Imperious Condescension pulls her back by her shirt.  “Close enough.”

“I’m not gonna _do_ anything to him,” Feferi rolls her eyes at her.  Her fuchsia eyes turn to you and then to the floor, and her expression becomes somber as she quietly says, “I just need him to save someone.”

Even though she’s the Condesce’s sister, you can tell that this girl is nothing like her.  Seeing Feferi so distraught reminds you a bit of your own younger siblings, and about the hardships you would endure to protect them. 

“It’s all right, no need to start crying,” you tell her. “I’ll do it.”

“You will?!” she exclaims.

“Yes, under two conditions,” you continue.

“Yes, anything!  Name them!” she says quickly.

“First, this immunity must last forever.  No take-backsees,” you say.

“OK! Done!” She says, gesturing quickly in your direction.

You actually do take a step back as a shimmering white light surrounds you.  You feel the protective force around you, granting you strength and immunity to Prospit.  You wonder if this will be good against _anything_ holy.

“What is your second condition?” she asks impatiently.

“I own a place in the mortal realm.  It’s a safe-haven for demons with good hearts,” you explain.  “None of the demons who work for me or who come to my place are to be targeted and attacked by angels.  For any reason.”

You see her hesitate at this.

“I won’t help unless you promise me this,” you tell her unwaveringly.

Feferi glances back at her sister.  The Condesce shrugs and says, “I don’t own him.”

You’re actually a little shocked to hear her say that.  Her Imperious Condescension acts like she owns everything.

Finally, Feferi nods at you. “Ok, I will honor that.  None of the demons will be harmed.”

“All right. Then show me what I have to do.”

It turns out that what you have to do is nothing like what Feferi thought you were going to do. 

She brings you to Prospit and takes you through a glowing golden palace.  She leads you into a room where a man is laying on a bed.  The Condesce’s sister catches you by surprise once again. 

The person Feferi wants you to save is a demon.

As you approach the bed, his eyes suddenly open widely.  One burns red and the other blue.  He lets out a blood-curdling scream.

Suddenly, you notice something very peculiar happen.  You’re floating off the ground, and you don’t have flight abilities.  In fact, everything is drifting up into the air.  You, Feferi, and the bed.

You notice that the room is devoid of anything else.  It would seem this is why.

In time, he settles down, and your feet again find the floor.  Quickly, Feferi runs to him. When you get to his bedside, she turns to you with tears in her eyes and says, “Please, save Sollux.”

You come to his side and place your hand on the cool skin of his wrist.  Instantly, you feel the warring within him, the constant battle of two sides vying for power.  You feel his rage, his compassion, his misery.

“He’s possessed.  I know he is,” Feferi murmurs beside you.  “He wasn’t like this before. He was sweet and dear. Sure, he had his little outbursts, but he was never like this!”

You search deeper into Sollux’s mind.  It’s like a fucking amusement park in there.  His shit’s so messed up that there’s no up or down.

“Just pull that demonic soul out of him!” Feferi says, anger in her voice.

Finally, you release Sollux’s wrist and look at her. “I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you can’t do that?  My sister said you were _the best_. She said that she’s seen what you can do and that you can pull _any soul_ from _any body_ ,” Feferi says, her eyes glaring sharply at you.  “Don’t hold out on me.  If you don’t honor your end of our agreement, I won’t honor mine.”

You sigh. Dirk and Dave are little shits, but you are so glad you never had a little sister.  “It’s not that I don’t want to help you.  If I pull the ‘demonic soul’ out of Sollux, I’ll be pulling out his soul.”

This shuts her up.  She blinks at you with her wide eyes for a few seconds. “I don’t understand.”

“Clearly,” you agree.  Then, you explain, “there is no other demonic soul in Sollux.  There is only one soul within him: his own.”

Quickly, she begins to panic.  “Then.  Then what’s wrong with him?  What do we do?  How do we fix him?”

“What’s wrong is that his soul is fragmented,” you murmur, touching his wrist again and assessing his soul.  Sure enough, you can tell where pieces that once kept the warring sides acquiescently compliant are ripped off.  Missing.  “I’ll have to find the pieces and put them back into him.”

“Can you do that?” she asks.

“We’ll see.”

* * *

**Dirk == > Save Sollux!** 

Saving Sollux isn’t as difficult as you thought it might be.  The most difficult thing about your task is dealing with one king of the fairies.  AKA: John’s future dad, who loves to pull pranks and tell corny jokes.

“Say, do you suppose we’ll be headed to Morrow?” he asks.

You know it’s a setup for another stupid joke, but you sigh anyway and respond, “No.  Why do you want to go to Morrow?”

“Because it’s better than going toDAY!” he finishes proudly.

You stare at him and slowly shake your head.  The sooner you are done with this little fetch quest, the better.

Dad jokes and pranks aside, the king of the fairies is actually quite helpful.  You never truly find out his name, because as soon as you introduce yourself as “Bro” he laughs and introduces himself as “Dad.”  He refuses to tell you his real name if you won’t tell him yours.  You don’t, so you never find out.

John’s dad, as you’ve come to think of him, is excellent at sensing souls, if given their specific frequency.  He leads you directly to the missing pieces of Sollux’s soul, and within a few days, you have collected them all.

When you place the last piece of Sollux’s soul together, he moans and slowly opens his eyes.  One is still red, and the other blue, but there is a calmness behind both his irises that wasn’t there before.  He looks at you with a puzzled expression before fixing his gaze on the girl that brought you here.  “Feferi?”

She squeals with delight and tackles him back onto the bed with a hug.

You decide to give the two of them their privacy.

As you prepare to leave Prospit through a hallway of portals very similar to the ones leading to Derse, John’s dad catches you.  He smiles and shakes your hand warmly.  You are half-expecting a buzzer underneath his fingers, but this time there isn’t one.  His voice is more serious than it has been this whole time as he says, “Bro, it was a delight working with you.  I was skeptical of you at first, because I am skeptical of demons.  You may be an incubus, but you are a good person.  I understand that you run an agency that protects the mortal realm?”

“Yes, I do,” you say with a small smirk.  “Why, you need a job?”

He laughs and shakes his head, “if only I did!  How I would love to travel the lands and take down the foes that threaten the peace of the world!  Alas, I already have a job and responsibilities to my people.  The only reason I came here was because I owed Feferi a favor. Being king is a hefty amount of work. But perhaps—”

You wait for it.

“—perhaps one day I could send a fairy or two to work for you?” he asks, hope behind his bright blue eyes.

You grin knowingly.  “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is done already. Like, DONE done. I even thought up a chapter title already. Be proud of me. XD
> 
> Anyway, the point of this announcement is that I'll probably post the next chapter up very shortly. I feel like Chapter 24 and 25 are two parts of a whole, and that having one without the other isn't right.
> 
> So, you can read Chapter 25 now, or you can read it next Update Thursday. Whichever you prefer. But please note that since I'm updating another new chapter NOW, I probably won't have a new chapter next Thursday.
> 
> That's all. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!~


	25. The Beginning

**Dirk == > Fight Damara** 

What?  Again?

Yes, it would seem that Damara has once again made her way to the mortal world from Derse.  You really have to find a more permanent way of putting her down sometime.

Knowing what a problem she is, you decide to take her out yourself.  You and Dirk are easily the best team, likely because your fighting styles are so similar.  Centuries of fighting side-by-side have made you mesh together well, and so far there has been nothing that could stop you.

Until Damara brings back the ghosts of your dead parents.

You remember watching as Bro freaked out, perplexed by these people you didn’t really know.  You remember thinking it was absurd that he didn’t recognize that the ghosts weren’t real. That the true enemy was Damara, who was still fighting you as he flipped out.

You remember all that, but you still can’t stop it from happening.  When you see the ghosts of your father and mother, holding their arms out to you, wanting to _love you_ , you can’t take it.  All you can think of is how they died for you.  How they gave everything they had to keep you and your brothers safe.

Damara’s claws pierce your body through the chest before you realize it.  You’re a mess, coughing up blood, and far too weak to be much use.  But you do have one advantage, as sad as it makes you to see.

Dirk doesn’t really remember your parents anymore.  He isn’t impeded by their ghosts, and he wastes no time in slicing Damara to pieces while she has her claws in you.

She bursts into dust, as she always seems to.  Dirk catches you as you slump forward.  Your body is a perforated mess, and you’ve lost so much blood that you can’t completely see straight.  “Derse,” you manage to rasp at him.  “Take me to Derse.”

He follows your directions and helps you to a portal not too far away from where you fought Damara.  It’s probably the one she used.  It’s barely stable and will likely disappear in a few hours, but it gets the job done.

Dirk brings you to the doors of the Condesce’s throne room and pauses.  “Bro, what is this place?” he asks, with just a hint of apprehension in his voice.

You’ve brought Dirk to Derse several times in the past, but you were selective with which rooms and places you showed him.  You mostly brought him to the library.  You never brought him here.

“This is _my_ place,” Her Imperious Condescension coos at him.  You instantly dislike her tone.  And the way she is eyeing Dirk.

“Don’t even fuckin’ think about it,” you growl at her.  Even though you’re so incapacitated that you needed Dirk to help you get here, you will _not_ let her do anything to your little brother.

Not yet, you realize grimly.

“You incubi and your customs,” she snickers.  The Condesce ignores the fact that you’re half-dead and asks, “is this one your son too?”

In your blood-deprived state, it takes you a moment to realize that she’s referring to your father and the way he adamantly told her to stay away from you.  With a heavy heart, you realize that like your father, your warning will have no effect on what happens to Dirk in the future.

“No, he’s my brother,” you say, glancing quickly at Dirk and gauging his level of discomfort.

Dirk isn’t pleased to be here.  You wouldn’t have made him come into the throne room at all if you could walk yourself, but Damara left you terribly weakened.  “Who are you?” Dirk asks.

The Condesce doesn’t answer right away.  “I go by a few names,” she finally murmurs.  She rises from her throne and slowly walks down the stairs to meet you both.

“Tell me one name, and that’s what I’ll call you,” Dirk says.  His defiant answer is so like you that you kind of want to laugh.  But you don’t.

“One name?  Hmm,” she contemplates the suggestion for a moment.  Then, she turns to you and says, “you called me somethin’ once, when we met long ago.  What was that name?”

“Betty,” you answer 

Her Imperious Condescension grins broadly at the name.  “Betty, I like it.  Has a nice ring to it.”  She turns to Dirk and says, “call me Betty.”

Dirk looks at her strangely, clearly not understanding the significance of anything going on.  “Ok.”  You decide he has stayed in the Condesce’s company long enough.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” you murmur to him.  “Now do me a favor and wait outside for a bit.”

Dirk listens to you and waits outside for you to do what you have to do.  A few drops of the Condesce’s blood, which she is willing to give up when she realizes the state you’re in, and your body is healed to the point where you can function again.  Her energy and passion fix the rest.

 

When you emerge from the throne room, you take Dirk back to the room that makes him wrinkle his nose in distaste.  “I remember this place,” he murmurs.

You don’t bother responding to him.  Bringing him here isn’t fair, but he’s a grown man now. He can handle a few unpleasant feelings.

You walk over to the bed where your little brother Dave is still asleep and sit beside him.  Tenderly, you brush a few strands of hair from his face and find the tiny flame of his bright red soul.  “Time to wake up, lil’ man.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Raise Dave** 

That is so much harder than you remember.  Of course, it might be harder because you’ve completely drained your energy waking your brother up.  And you still have to feed Dirk too, because he’s in that _stupid_ relationship with Caliborn.

After waking Dave, you find yourself unable to go out fighting anymore.  You’re far too weak.  You decide it’s for the best anyway, since someone has to watch that little shit.  But The City still needs someone with your abilities to fight the forces of Evil.

The City still needs Dirk.  But you can’t send him out without a partner.  You don’t want him to die.

You remember what Bro did at this point. He gave you Roxy as a partner, and life was good.  But you don’t even have contact with Roxy yet.  How the hell are you supposed to find her?

Then you remember John’s dad, who seemed ready to shit himself at the idea of sending fairies to work for you.  It only takes one message to make it happen.

Roxy’s standing in the doorway to your office before you realize it.  You look up from where you were sitting at your desk, and for a moment you’re stunned.

She’s here.  In the flesh. Roxy’s here.  Completely alive and not an angel.

She’s full human sized, sporting a white t-shirt and a pink miniskirt, even though those won’t be in style for another couple hundred years.  When her pink irises catch yours, she grins widely. “Heya!  Hope I’m in the right place!  Are you ‘Bro Strider’?” She asks, making air quotes around your name with her fingers.

You can’t help the smile on your face.  You’re just so fucking happy to see her.  “Yeah, I am.  Did ‘Dad Egbert’ send you?” you ask, making air quotes around his name.

She giggle-snorts and replies, “yes, he did!  Said you had some work for me?”

“I do,” you agree.  “How are your demon fighting skills?”

“Totally the best,” she says, nodding along with her own statement.

“Good, then I know you’ll take good care of my little bro,” you respond softly.

Roxy does.  The two of them gel quickly, and together, they take out the most difficult of foes.

Knowing that they have the battle-front covered, you are free to take care of Dave, who is even _more_ of a smart-ass than Dirk.  Dave has an excuse for everything.  And not just any excuse.  A LONG excuse.

“This is oppression, man.  Oppression like when you go to out for a ham sandwich, but they’re like ‘nah bro sorry, we’re all out of ham. You’ll have to deal with chicken today or fuckin’ grilled cheese. Except we’re not actually out of ham we just don’t want to give it to you because you suck.’  It’s like why am I even bothering because like I really want a shitty chicken sandwich anyway?  No thanks. You can keep your fuckin’ chicken.”

You blink at him.  “I can’t believe you’re only ten.”

You kind of hope that somehow he will grow out of this phase and not end up like the Dave you remember, but it doesn’t seem like that is in the cards. 

Dave doesn’t have the same thirst for knowledge that Dirk had, but the kid is far from stupid.  He kicks back and relaxes through classes, and he doesn’t put up a fight when you teach him some Japanese.  You never have to drop him off in Japan, and that works out just fine for you.

You teach him how to be proficient at sword fighting, but you don’t have a brokenly awesome katana to give him.  You settle for having one crafted for him in Derse.  Honestly, you think it’s probably just as good as yours and Dirk’s, but Dave still complains that his sword is ‘so much shittier’ than his brother’s.  Whatever.

Sooner than you would like, Dave’s sixteenth birthday hits.  Though you’re almost positive Dirk hasn’t talked about it, somehow Dave _knows_ that’s when you allowed his brother to feed on his own.

You find Dave waiting on your couch for you calmly, sitting with his hands folded nicely in his lap.  Before he can even open up his long-winded mouth, you sigh, “fine.”

“Yesssss,” he cheers quietly.

You don’t have anyone lined up to teach Dave.  For a fleeting moment you entertain the idea of Karkat, but you realize that their relationship is really more about Dave finding amusement in tormenting him endlessly and less about love.  Or even mutual like.  Knowing Karkat’s views on relationships, you don’t want to touch that.

Somehow, Terezi knew this was going to happen, and she offers.  You’ve seen the way Dave and Terezi look at each other.  It’s definitely more than friendly, but you don’t know if this is the right thing for either of them.  Terezi decides that it’s the perfect thing, and she brings your little brother back to her place to show him everything she knows.

You insist on coming along, and it’s a good thing you do.  You have to pull Dave back several times to stop him from feeding too quickly.  Dave has a bit more trouble with control than Dirk.

It’s an ongoing theme for him, and for years you find yourself painstakingly monitoring your youngest bro as he feeds.  More often than not, you have to stop him at least once to prevent him from hurting his lovers. 

Dave takes on many lovers.  He tends to circle back to Terezi every now and then, but he has no hesitancy in finding his own food.  It’s like a little game to him.  A game that you unfortunately have to sit through more often than you would like.

Eventually, you get smart, and you start taking turns with Dirk.  You let Dirk share the misfortune of watching his brother feed and teaching him about “the line.”

And soon, the day comes when you are well enough to fight again. You’ve fully regained your strength from when you woke up Dave, and you decide that it’s high time that your brothers extend their palate from just your blood.

Her Imperious Condescension is all too happy to find the most powerful demons on the planet for you to eradicate.  The more powerful the demon, the more powerful the demon’s blood will be.  The stronger the blood you feed your brothers, the stronger they will become.

You start taking on targets solo.  It gives you a thrill to be demon hunting again, and you find it oddly delightful to hand your brothers giant plastic cups filled with monster blood instead of your own.  You know that it will make them stronger to feed from more creatures than just your incubus blood, and though they may not realize it yet, they need it.

Gorgons, yetis, harpies, king serpents, and more.  With a portal to Derse at your disposal, the world is at your fingertips. You can give your brothers some of the most powerful blood in existence and watch them groan and moan about it.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you smirk a little on the inside.

And though they don’t seem to notice, you see the difference it makes in them.  Your brothers indeed grow stronger, week by week.  You strife them both often enough to know.  They’re faster and have more strength.  As they grow in power, they grow in confidence.

You’d never say so, but you’re so fucking proud of them.  Two little demons that you raised all on your own.

In all this time, you let Dave take on missions with Terezi.  They make a good pair, but you know it won’t last forever.  Knowing what’s to come leaves you itching with anticipation, because you want your brother to meet him soon.  You’re anxiously awaiting a specific moment in time.  You wonder how it will happen.

It turns out to be a simple phone call.  You pick up your office phone and are pleasantly surprised to hear John’s dad on the other end.  “Hey, Bro, I don’t suppose you have room for one more fairy in that demon hunting business of yours, do you?”

“Sure,” you say, smiling inwardly at what you know has to be coming next.

“Oh good, John will be so pleased!” he says. You can hear the relief in his voice.  “He’s been looking forward to this day for several years now.  John’s my son, and I’m so proud of him.  He’s a really good boy.  Please take good care of him.”

“I will,” you assure him.

“Yes, I know you will.”

John arrives a few days later.  An excited ball of blue energy zips into your office and flies in front of your face.  “John Egbert reporting for duty!  Uhh, sir!”

You smile.  “Bro Strider.  And please, there’s no need for that formality around here.”

“Oh ok, Bro,” John says, dropping the formalities quickly.  He looks at you excitedly. “So I hear we have partners!  Who is my partner?  I hope it’s someone cool!”

“He’s my little bro, Dave,” you tell him, doing your best to hide any emotion from your voice.  “I know you two will get along well.”

“Yeah, I know.  I get along with everyone,” John says.  “Is he _cool?_ ”

“Haven’t you heard?  Striders are _always_ cool,” Dave replies, walking into your office.

John smiles that big toothed smile at him, and you can feel it go straight to Dave’s heartstrings. “Wow, what a dorky thing to say.”

They banter a little bit before you send them off on their first mission together.  You make sure it’s an easy one so that they’ll have plenty of time to talk and get to know each other after.

It isn’t long before Dave’s in love.  You pity him, knowing how long it will be before John fully reciprocates that love.

Also, it’s all too long before your other brother decides to do something he should have done long ago.

“I broke up with Caliborn,” Dirk says suddenly one day.  Then he frowns at you.  “No. Don’t you fucking dare.”

Oh, but you do dare.  You throw him the biggest party you can.  You fill the place with balloons.  You order a petting zoo and horse rides.  You have jugglers.  The whole office celebrates the whole evening with every kind of cake known to man.

Dirk calls you an asshole several times, but you know that part of him is very happy. He’s not happy because of the party; he’s happy that you care. 

A couple centuries pass, with the era approaching the modern day quickly.  You introduce your brothers to Japanese Anime, and the three of you marathon series after series.  You watch all the old movies that you remember watching when you were younger, and you dub over the shitty lines with your brothers.  Sometimes Roxy and John join, and the five of you laugh the night away.

Life is good.  Life is really fucking good.

You know that there is only one thing that could possibly make it better. But it won’t come without consequence.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Watch your best friend die.  Again.** 

Roxy dies.  You know it as soon as it happens because you watch it happen.  You remember the day clearly, and when the fateful day rears its ugly head, you stealthily follow them on their mission and watch from the shadows.  Things may have ended differently for them had you stepped in.  Roxy might not have died.  Dirk would never have had to go through the anguish of her loss.

But that would have fucked up the timeline.  Roxy would never have become an angel.  Dirk wouldn’t need a new partner.

You wouldn’t have a reason to find Jake.

While Dirk locks himself in his room for the remainder of the evening, you leave on your quest for Jake English.

You find him sitting alone in a bar, very much like the one where you first met him.  As luck would have it, he’s back in that same city where you used to meet him centuries ago.  It all seems too cliché.  Like this is all just some setup in a shitty romantic comedy.

But shitty romantic comedy or not, you came here for a reason.  You can’t chicken out now.  Dirk’s future depends on it.  You depend on it.

“Hey Jake,” you murmur, sliding into the seat beside him.

Jake doesn’t look up from where he’s staring down at his hands resting the bar.  It takes a moment, but slowly, he smiles.  “Strider—never thought I’d hear your voice again.”

His accent has grown even stronger than you remember.  Guilt hits you suddenly as you wonder just how much time Jake has spent in this city waiting for you.  You stopped keeping track of him, so you don’t really know.

“My responsibilities have kept me busy,” you respond, and the defense sounds lame in your ears.  True though it may be.

“I assumed,” Jake says.  Slowly, he glances over at you, his green eyes resting on you softly.  He smiles, and your heart wants to melt.  “It is good to see you again.”

“You too,” you murmur back.

He continues to look at you far too long.  You get the feeling that he knows something is up.  “Our meeting tonight isn’t chance, is it?”

Silently, you shake your head.

“It never has been, has it?” he asks quietly.

Again, you shake your head.

“Strider, I don’t know what to make of you.  Truly, I don’t,” Jake sighs. “I never asked, just what _are_ your responsibilities?”

“I have two younger brothers to care for,” you respond quietly.  “And I sort of run a demon hunting agency.”

His eyes widen.  “You do?”

“Yeah.  That’s kind of why I’m here,” you admit.  “My younger bro needs a partner to help him fight the demons of Derse.  Someone whose abilities are not like his.”

“Me?” Jake guesses correctly.

“Yeah, you fit the bill pretty well,” you agree.  “I know you can fight.  I know that you’ll keep my little bro safe.”

Jake sighs, “Strider, I don’t know how to tell you this, but my demon hunting days are long behind me.”

That wasn’t the response you were expecting. “—what?”

“Yes, I gave it up long ago.  After there was an—an incident,” he says quietly.  Unfortunately, you know exactly what incident he is referring to.  There is only one that could bring such pain to his eyes, such anguish to his expression.

“Jake, please, we need you,” you plead in a very uncharacteristic way.  You’re not used to this.  You’re used to giving people orders and having them follow it.  You’re used to telling your little bros what to do, because you know what’s best for them.

You don’t ever have to plead. You never have this feeling of dread inside you.  That things just might not happen according to the timeline.  That you might fuck everything up.

Jake does this to you.  He’s the only one who always can.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. This isn’t how it was supposed to go at all.

Eventually, Jake looks back up at you, and his face brightens marginally.  “I’m simply a marksman now.  I hunt wild game to feed the people, nothing more.  I’ve built quite a name for myself.  Seems everyone in these parts knows the marksman Jake English.”

“Then you’ve been keeping up your skills,” you reason, ignoring the fact that it’s everyone in “these parts” that Jake is referring to.  Meaning that, as you suspected, Jake has spent a good deal of time here.  “You’ll do just fine.  Please, come to work for me.”

“Did you come to work for me?” he asks quietly.

You’re stunned into silence.  Again, only Jake can do this to you.

“Maybe things might have been different, if you had,” he continues softly.  “Maybe The Felt would have had a chance against the demons it faced.  We could have stopped all of the destruction.  All of the death.”

He looks into your eyes, and there is a profound sadness that is beyond measure.  “But maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.  Maybe you would have ended up as just another number laid to waste on the battlefield.  Another bitter ring on Death’s toll.”

You stay silent.  You know that there is more he wants to say, and you won’t interrupt him.

Jake sighs.  “Perhaps it is better that you never joined me.  Perhaps that is why you still yet live.”

When it is clear that he is done with his monologue, you gently respond, “it’s impossible to know all the ‘what ifs.’  You can’t blame yourself for that, and neither can I.  If I could go back and change time, I can’t even say that I’d do anything differently.  But I do know one thing.”

You pause and smile softly as Jake looks at you.  “The future is not yet written.  Whatever the past may have been, there is still _hope_ for the future.  That is one thing you taught me, Jake English, and I will never forget it.  So I ask you again, please join me.  Help me fight the forces of evil and make this world—no, this _universe_ —a better place.”

Jake is silent for an eternity.  Or perhaps he is only silent for a few seconds.  You’ll never know, because in this moment there is only you and Jake and an endless infinity between you.

Finally, he gives you a small smile and says, “all right.  You’ve convinced me to try one last time.  Care to introduce me to this brother of yours?”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Introduce Jake to your little bro**

Oh fuck no. There’s no way you could do that without falling to pieces.  But you do set the meeting up.  You bring Jake back with you the following day and instruct him to wait until after you speak with Dirk.

Until Dirk arrives, you have some time to kill.  Jake stands with you outside your bar and admires it. “This is quite a place you have.  It’s nice.”

“Thanks,” you say.  “Really, everyone else is to thank for the interior.  I had little to do with that.”

“You seem to have quite the eclectic combination of employees,” Jake remarks.

“Yes,” you agree.  “They’re all friends.  So are my regular patrons.”

“Naturally,” he says. Silence fills the air, and you don’t think that things have ever been so awkward between the two of you.  After a bit of time, he finally ventures to say, “so I assume you have a target planned out for me already?”

“Vriska Serket,” you say, handing him a piece of paper with your forced scratchy writing on it.

Jake glances closely at the paper and makes a face.  “Since when did your handwriting become so bloody awful?”

You laugh.  “Since having to raise two little monsters.”

He looks at you questionably but pockets the paper without further question.  After a few more moments of silence, he asks, “you don’t suppose, after I send Miss Serket back to Derse, that you might want to catch a movie?”

If it hadn’t already, your heart breaks in two. 

No way.  No fucking way.  After all of this time, all of these centuries apart, Jake still cares about you?  Does he have feelings for you?

You can’t help taking a peek into his thoughts, but Jake is already thinking about the movies that are currently in the theater.  He’s already assuming that you’ll say yes and trying to decide between the garbage available in the shows right now.

You hate to do this, but you have to.

“Sorry, English.  Can’t,” you murmur.  You wince, feeling the shock and surprise coming off him.  Feeling his surprise slowly turn to pain.  Lamely, you murmur, “I have responsibilities I can’t ignore.”

Jake sighs, “of course you do.”

You don’t know what to say to Jake.  Even if you had a thousand years, (which ironically you did) you still don’t know what you would say to him.  But you don’t have time anyway.  You feel him approaching.

Your younger brother.  Dirk.

“Dirk’s coming,” you tell Jake quietly.  “Hide around the corner until we go inside, then wait out here.  I’ll send him out to meet you.”

“That seems like a very peculiar custom,” Jake remarks.  “Do people always introduce others like that around here?”

“No, but I need to talk to Dirk before he meets you,” you mutter.  “He just lost a good friend tonight.  He probably won’t be very excited to meet you, so I apologize if he’s a little—off putting.”

Jake laughs, and you hear a note of bitterness behind it.  “Oh, believe me, Strider.  I’m quite accustomed to that.”

You don’t say anything else to him.  You don’t have time to.  Jake’s already disappeared around the corner, and you hear the anger of Dirk’s soul as he pulls his Jeep up to the place.

Here it comes.  You lean against the brick beside the glass door beneath the black awning of your place and wait as your younger brother walks up.  When Dirk finally reaches you, you force a drawl into your voice and say, “sup little bro?  ‘Bout time you showed up tonight.”

You grab him by the arm and pull him inside.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Be a good older brother** 

Yeah, you’d say you’re a lot better now than you were before.  You can tell Dirk’s been crying all night and day.  He’s probably been crying again tonight too.  So you do something to make him feel better.

You give him coffee.

Dirk is used to your unusual methods of consoling him and Dave by now.  Long gone are the hugs you gave him as a kid.  He’s a fully grown adult now, and he has to learn to deal with this shit on his own.

“What’s this?” he asks you, taking the cup suspiciously.  You don’t blame him.  Usually you hand him cups filled with the blood of various monsters. 

“Breakfast,” you tell him, leaning back against your desk.

Dirk takes his time looking around your office, thinking about the place and about the suspicious liquid you’ve given him.  He takes a sip and sighs in visible relief.

“What, did you think I was going to feed you Yeti blood or something?” You ask, grinning at him.  He glares at you, and you admit, “yeah, it’s in the fridge.  But I figured tonight you could use a little pick-me-up.”

This simple statement knocks Dirk off the delicate tightrope balancing act that his soul was doing.  He topples over into the metaphorical pit of sadness and begins to wallow in misery over Roxy’s death.

You catch the coffee cup before he drops it and level a stare at him.  “Hey, look at me.”

He doesn’t.

You take off your shades and force his gaze up to yours.  “Look at me,” you demand again.

He finally fights his way back up out of his own self-pity enough to growl at you, “what?”

You have to get him out of here.  You have to get him working again, and not just working on his own, but working with _Jake_. 

You’re going to have to lie to him.  Sorta.  “You know I’d give you a day off if I could.  Hell, I’d give you a decade off.  But you’re our best man. Dave is getting pretty good, but you’re still our best,” you reason with him slowly. 

Dirk can tell that you sound a little bit different than usual, but he chalks it up to you being sensitive that Roxy has died.  He hates it.  He hates you.  He hates everything right now.  “I know.  I know but I fucking hate it!” He shouts. 

Yep. There’s the angsty Dirk you remember being.  He even _snarls_ at you, and though he isn’t aware of it, he’s half-way baring his fangs at you as he says the next lines, “I’ll keep working, but nobody can take Roxy’s place.  Nobody.”

But you’re not afraid of him.  You’re Bro.  You can and will make him do this.  He has to work with Jake tonight.  As much as it pains you, the two have to meet.

“Dirk, you need someone with you now more than ever,” you tell him sternly. “I’m giving you a partner and that’s final.”

“It’s not fair!” Dirk whines and growls.  He’s a complete mess right now.  You really don’t remember being _this_ much of a mess, but apparently you were.  You hate to make Jake deal with him, but you have no choice.

Then Dirk starts thinking about how anguished he is that Roxy is dead.  He thinks that everything he cares about is gone.

Little does he know.

“No it’s not.  And stop thinking that way, it’s not true,” you admonish him, squeezing his hand a bit to pull him back into the present.  You continue to look him straight in the eye as you tell him, “you’re a Strider.  We look out for each other.”

Dirk knows it’s true, but he still frowns at you anyway.

“I’m giving you a partner because I care about you and don’t want to find you dusted on the sidewalk come morning,” you continue.  Immediately, Dirk gives you a look of disgust.  “Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true.”

He sighs, and you can tell from his thoughts that he’s relinquishing the pointless fight.  He’s accepted that he will have to work with a partner that he’s already determined to hate.

“That’s the spirit,” you say, slipping your shades back on.  You hand him his coffee and pat him on the back, gesturing toward the door.  “Your new partner’s just outside the building, whenever you’re ready to meet him.  He’s got your assignment.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Don’t let your heart break** 

Impossible.  It’s already broken.

You just finished talking to Dirk in your office.  You sent him out to meet Jake and gave him some coffee that he left on the bar counter. 

Dirk hates you right now for making him work tonight, but he doesn’t know what you know, He doesn’t realize that he _has_ to work today.  He has to experience having Jake English as a partner _now_ , as much as it might pain him to do so. 

Dirk’s future depends on it.  You depend on it.

You climb up the fire escape out the back and sit atop the rooftop of the building.  Peering over the edge of the building, you watch as Dirk makes a complete and utter ass out of himself when he meets Jake.  You can’t help but cringe at his callous demeanor— _your_ former callous demeanor—when he speaks to Jake.

Jake takes it all in stride.  Though you can tell he is thrown off when he sees Dirk, his surprise quickly melts away, and he resumes that happy-go-lucky attitude that you have come to love.

Dirk’s just _looking_ for reasons to hate Jake.  Everything from his hair and his clothes to the adorable way he whistles.  Fuck, you love Jake so much. But Dirk doesn’t.  Not yet.

“Ah!  Why hello, old chap! Delightful to make your acquaintance!” Jake says cheerfully, holding out his hand to Dirk.  “My name is Jake English!  And you are—?”

Dirk doesn’t take his hand.  Instead he scowls and says, “you know who I am.  Don’t pretend.”

You could kick his ass.  You could kick it so hard.

But you don’t.  Instead, you stay on the rooftop and watch as Jake takes his hand back and scratches the back of his head with it awkwardly.  “Ah, my apologies, old bean! Your brother did mention that your name was Dirk Strider, but I thought it only polite to introduce myself properly!”  He stammers. You can tell that he’s a little bit flustered and embarrassed.

“ _It’s not your fault, Jake,_ ” you think to yourself ruefully.  “ _Fucking damn it, I was such an idiot!_ ”

“Forget the manners.  Forget all of this actually.  I don’t know what Bro told you, but he’s full of shit,” Dirk growls. 

You disagree.  You most certainly are not full of shit. 

Dirk continues, “I don’t need a babysitter tonight.  I’m fine on my own.”

“Your ah— _Bro_ didn’t mention much to me, in fact!” Jake says your name in such a strange way that you can’t help but notice.  His lips linger on the word as if it’s foreign to him, and he glances at the ground sheepishly after saying it.  “And I assure you, I would make a terrible babysitter, my good fellow!”

Dirk continues to fill with hatred as he says, “why do you keep saying those ridiculous phrases?  What _are_ you?  Did you literally just wake up from the 1800s?”

If only Dirk knew the answer to those questions.  You wonder if he would be running for the hills if you told him that the fearsome Lord English, whose mere _mention_ scared him enough to stay in bed all night as a child, was lying dormant within Jake.

“My apologies again!” Jake says, and you can tell that he is refraining from adding any of his adorable Jake-isms to the ends of his sentences.  “It seems our vernacular is not quite in synch.  Where I’m from, we typically don’t address people by their first names.”

Now you realize why he sounded so peculiar saying your name.  Jake has never said it before.  Since the first day you met, you have always been “Strider” to him.

You can’t wait for the day that he calls you “Dirk” again.  You can’t wait to have him back in your arms, in your life, for good.

“No?  Well, lucky for you, I’ve got two names,” Dirk says snottily.  Any other day, you would strife him into tomorrow for saying these things to Jake.

“Oh!  Of course, _Strider_!” Jake says, placing the familiar inflection on your last name.  It sounds so strange to hear him call your brother the name he has called you the past millennia.  It’s as if he’s addressing you.

That throws your head for a fucking loop.  You actually shake your head slightly to knock the strange feeling away.

Jake—Jake is talking to _Dirk_.  He’s talking to _your brother_.  He’s not talking to _you_.

And yet, when you watch Jake’s happy expression, the feeling comes back again.  It brings a sickness to your stomach that forms like a cold stone in your gut.  Your mouth and throat feel like they are filled with cotton, and your brain is hazy with dandelion fuzz.

“There you go.  And you’re dismissed now, English, I don’t need any help,” Dirk says.

“Have you seen the assignment?  I get the feeling you might want a little help on this one,” Jake replies, waving your paper in front of Dirk’s face.

Dirk grabs the paper out of his hands and scowls at your forced shitty writing.  “Fine.  Just this one mission, and then we’re done.”

Jake pretends not to know Dirk drives a Jeep.  In truth, you mentioned the bad boy to him earlier, and Jake was quite excited to take it for a ride.  Naturally, since he watched Dirk drive up, he knows exactly which vehicle is his.  “Shall I look up the bus schedule?  I’m certain I have enough spare change—” he trails off. 

Damn, Jake is actually _really fucking good_ at acting.  He even reaches into his pocket as if he’s looking for spare change for the bus fare.

Dirk regains a bit of himself and his typical smugness as he jingles his keys in front of Jake’s face.  “Hell no.  This is my city, I drive.”

Jake grins widely and exclaims, “Shotgun!”  Now that you know him, that only becomes more ironic.

Dirk frowns and begins, “how do you know—” You poke into his thoughts and hear the ending. “— _which car is mine?_ ”

Jake spins back around and flashes him the brightest grin.  “I’ll find it.”

You watch as Dirk stares in awe at Jake’s ability to find his Jeep.  Then he stares in awe of Jake’s nice ass.

Zing.

And there it is.  Dirk’s interest is hooked.

From this point on, he will only continue to admire Jake more, thankfully for reasons other than his butt (fine though that is.)  He will talk to him.  Interact with him more.  Watch godawful movies with him.  Play videogames with him.

Dirk will fall in love with him.

You listen as Dirk goes on to think about Jakes ass for far longer than is necessary before they both jump into his Jeep and drive off.

As they peel away on their first mission, you lay down flat on your back on the rooftop and stare up at the nighttime sky.  You have no idea why the fuck fate decided to be this cruel to you.  Haven’t you already had enough heartbreak?  Why do you have to watch your brother—(no, _yourself_. Why do you keep forgetting that?)  Why do you have to watch yourself fall in love?

Why why why why why?

It’s the million dollar question.  It’s a child’s question.  It’s _the question_ that you would give anything to hear answered.

Nothing answers you, though, as you continue to stare up.  The sounds of the city surround you like a nest and fade gently away.  The rooftop separates from your back as your mind reminisces back on the last millennium.

You met Jake.  You loved him.  He loved you.  You were torn apart.  He saved you.  You saved him.  You were torn apart again by 1000 years.

Then, in another life as Bro, you met him again.  You loved him.  In time, he came to love you.  And now, you’ll be torn apart again. 

But not for long.  No, this time, not for long.

The stars in the sky blur in your vision as your eyes begin to well with tears.  You sigh and blink them away.  Striders are too cool for tears.

You knew this would be hard.  Life has never been easy, and if you think you’ve got it bad, then what about Dirk?

In a way, you pity him far more than yourself.  In a few short months, you’ll have reached your goal.  You’ll have reached that point that you and Jake both stepped through time.  The point in which only Jake will step out.

Then, once he’s back, you can finally be together again.

After 1000 years, what’s a few more months?

Satisfied that it will all be over soon enough, you climb back down the fire escape and slip back into your office before Dirk and Jake get back.

You’re sitting back at your desk when they both walk back into your office, looking a bit worse for wear.  You pry quickly into Dirk’s mind and are reminded of everything that he did this evening.  “Good thing _Jake_ was there,” you murmur, emphasizing Jake’s name.

“I’d have been fine,” he says, though his thoughts tell you otherwise.

“Yeah, if by fine you mean filleted open by one Vriska Serket,” you mutter, shaking your head.  You sigh and bow your head down for a moment as you think of what to do.

This is it.  This is the last step you have to take to bring them together.  After this point, everything will happen on its own.  “I’m sending you home for the night,” you murmur.

“What?!” He exclaims, the rage igniting within him again.  Dirk may be angry, but he’s far from stupid.  “Then what was all that bullshit earlier about needing me, huh?”

“ _That bullshit introduced you to the love of your life,_ ” you think at him bitterly, but you keep your thoughts to yourself.

Instead, you manage to come up with another lie.  Sort of.  “You took out Vriska, the toughest mark of the night.”

You pause again.  It’s not like you to hesitate this much, and Dirk catches on quickly.  He’s instantly suspicious of what you’re about to say.

There’s no way to sugar coat it, and you wouldn’t want to anyway.  So, instead, you just say it.

“Jake’s coming home with you.”

“Fuck no!” he exclaims.

You have had enough of his shit tonight.  You angle your head at him in warning.  That’s all it takes for him to shut up and try calming himself down.  He actually does a fairly decent job.  There’s only a small note of distress in his voice when he says, “Nah Bro, I can handle myself.  I don’t need Jake babysitting me.  Besides, he said he’s a terrible babysitter.”

“I am,” Jake pipes up to agree.

“Shut it, English,” you snap at him.  You’re about to regret saying that to him, but you see his small smirk in response.  Jake still understands your sense of humor. 

You focus your attention back on Dirk.  “You’ll take Jake back with you because he doesn’t have anywhere else to stay right now.  He’s come a long way on short notice.  Until we get a more permanent living situation figured out for him, the least you can do is show him some fucking hospitality for saving your life.”

Dirk doesn’t say anything else, but you hear everything in his thoughts.  He knows you’re right.  He doesn’t like it, but he knows it.

Your little bro turns around and silently walks away, resigning himself to his fate.

Jake glances at you curiously, pointing at the door in question.  When you indicate toward Dirk with a nod of your head, Jake gives you his adorable smile.  “Goodnight, Strider,” he says.

You watch Dirk and Jake disappear out the door and _know_ that this is it.  This is fucking it.

This is the beginning of something amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve finally reached the beginning of Hopeless and Heartless! Are you excited? I’m excited. 
> 
> Just a reminder, two updates this week probably means there won’t be one next week! I work fast, but not that fast.
> 
> Thank you to Chibiedo for helping me proofread these last two chapters! I’m very thankful for the help!
> 
> As usual, comments, reviews, asks, etc. are all appreciated!


	26. Falling in Love

**Bro == > Watch Dirk fall in love** 

It’s weird, but you have to keep reminding yourself that Dirk, your little brother, is actually _you_.  That you’re not really just some spectator to this whole event.  That these events, that are occurring in the _present moment,_ are _your past_.

You watch Dirk fall in love.  You watch yourself fall in love.

And, though Dirk can’t yet hear thoughts, you can.  You watch Jake fall in love too.

Distancing yourself from these events becomes harder.  It’s difficult to see yourself loving Jake and to recognize that even though you’re watching it happen literally in front of your eyes, it’s not _you_. 

You are Bro.  You aren’t allowed to love Jake.  Not yet.

So you deal with it.  Time passes in an infinity of moments and you constantly remind yourself that this isn’t you that you’re watching.  This is Dirk.

You’re Bro. 

_You’re Bro._

**_You’re BRO._ **

You’d like to say you’re completely cool and collected, but you aren’t.  It’s hard to follow everything exactly as it happened.  It’s hard to do the “wrong” thing sometimes, like send Dirk and Dave both after Damara.

As if you didn’t know better than that.  Please.  Damara’s the one who wrecked your shit last time.  You wouldn’t just forget that.

But everything has a purpose.

When Dave pulls up to Haven in the Jeep with Dirk bleeding his life away in the back seat, you see how Jake has him cradled protectively in his arms.  You feel the overwhelming concern Jake has for Dirk, and when you catch Jake’s eyes, you feel the depth of his compassion for him.

You don’t dwell on it, and instead, you pull Dirk from the backseat, carrying him into your office.  “Fucking damn it,” you mutter under your breath.  “This is so stupid.  So fucking stupid.”

You tear Dirk’s shirt off and are relieved to see his wounds begin to heal on their own.

“Is he going to be ok?” Jake asks.  You can hear the concern in his voice, in his thoughts.  You know without a doubt that Jake at this point cares very much for your brother.

And it’s only been a day.  How is that even fucking possible?  How can people fall for each other so quickly, after being alone for so long?

You suppose you will never completely understand how it works.

“Yeah, he’ll scrape through.  It takes more than Damara’s claws to end a Strider,” you reassure Jake. 

It’s true.  You think.  You’re still insanely glad that John is a fairy and not at all swayed by Damara’s temptations.  Despite that kid’s wild declarations that he’s “not a homosexual” you know he’s never been anything else.

You furrow your brows in concern over Dirk.  You were passed out at this point in time in your past, and you hadn’t realized just how bad you looked. Quietly, you murmur to Jake, “he’s badly hurt though.”

In a shocking gesture of concern, Dave wedges himself between you and Jake.  He’s hysterical, his voice trembling a bit as he says, “this was my fault. It was all my fucking fault, let me—”

“No it wasn’t,” you cut him off quickly and hold him back when he tries to lean forward towards Dirk.  You’re not sure what Dave was planning on doing, since he doesn’t know how to transfer his energy yet.  At least, you don’t think he does.  “He didn’t listen to me, and Damara got to him.  That’s not your fault.”

No, it’s not Dave’s fault.  If anything, it’s your own fault for following the fucking timeline.  But you have to.  A quick glance at Jake tells you that he’s still very concerned about Dirk.  

“And besides,” you pause, glancing at your overly gaunt brother. “You’re not exactly in tip-top shape yourself, lil’ man.”

Dave’s thoughts tell you exactly what happened earlier, and you see glimpses of Damara sucking the life out of your baby bro.

You really hate that bitch.

“But we’ve gotta do something!” Dave insists.

“Yeah,” you sigh, thinking about what you need to do next.  As convenient as it would be to let them all stay in the room, you can’t.   If you let them all stay and watch you feed Dirk, Jake won’t ask about it later.  Jake won’t find out that Dirk’s an incubus, and there will be more secrets kept between the two of them.  More than there already are.  “Yeah we do.  All of you, get out.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jake says.  You glance at him quickly and see how affronted he looks.  It’s as if he believes that he _deserves_ to be here.  You’re not sure whether to be thrilled or miffed about that.

“You heard me, English. Out,” you tell him, pointing at the door.  You try not to feel anything as you see his shocked expression.  “Even you, Dave.  Go grab something to eat. You’re skinny as a rail.”

“Bullshit!  Dirk’s my bro too!  I should be able to—” Dave begins to have a little outburst, but you quickly stop that with a pointed glare.  You’ve trained him enough not to talk sass back to you, and you see him visibly work to control himself.  He manages to do it after a moment and sighs, “ok. Fine.  But he’s _really_ hurt, so don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

This actually gets a small laugh out of you.  “I think I know a thing or two about my own brother.”  In your mind, you add “ _about myself._ ”

“Now out, before I lose my patience,” you command, indicating with a small jerk of your head toward the door.

They don’t have any further comments.  Dave and Jake both shuffle out of your office, and even John glances back sadly from where he’s riding on Dave’s shoulder.  Dave pulls the door shut when they leave.

Finally, you’re alone with your defiant little brother.  The younger version of you that wouldn’t listen to the voice of reason and turn the Jeep around when you told him to. 

Time to slap him awake.

Dirk comes to, and you feed him your energy in the biggest hug you’ve given him in a long time.  You haven’t had to feed him since he broke up with Caliborn, and the old familiar feeling of him pulling your energy into him almost makes you smile.  Almost.

When you realize that you got Dirk’s blood all over your shirt, you take it off and throw it at him.  Dirk seems all too pleased to have one of your shirts. Though he’ll never outright say it, you know that the kid admires you.  It’s kind of sweet in a sort of weird way.

After you hand him a giant Mega Gulp cup of Yeti blood that you collected yourself yesterday, you let the people waiting in the hall back in.  Of course, Dave didn’t leave to eat anything and he’s just as skinny as before.  You return to your desk and watch with a small smile as John flies into Dirk’s chest, and Dave fistbumps him. 

Your smile grows sad as you see Jake kneel beside Dirk with a smile that could brighten the entire room.  He’s so happy that your brother’s ok.  You love that, but it also twists the metaphorical knife in your chest a bit.

Despite feeling like crap, you can tell that Dirk is very happy. He can tell that Dave, John, and Jake care about him.  And when his eyes come to rest on Jake, you can sense the extra bit of interest behind his thoughts.

Dirk’s intrigued by him.  Attracted to him.

Dirk _likes_ him.

“Glad you’re all right, Strider!  I’d hate to lose my partner after only a day!  I’m certain that would be a horrible new record,” Jake says, pulling your attention from those thoughts.

“There’ve been worse records,” you assure him.  Briefly, your mind flashes to your father. The first monster you both faced was Lord English.  You remember how that ended all too well.

Quickly, you blink the thoughts away, showing no signs of your pain as you continue, “but just to be sure you don’t add to them, you’re all taking the rest of the night off. Damara was the most challenging target by far.  Karkat and his crew can handle the rest of them. Dirk, make sure Dave eats something.”

You refill Dirk’s cup with Yeti blood before he leaves and watch as they exit your office.  Once they’re gone, you throw yourself onto the couch Dirk was just bleeding all over, not caring that you’re ruining yet another shirt or that you’ll need to power-wash that later.

It’s in motion.  Your grand schemes are all going according to plan.

You just wish it wouldn’t hurt this much.

* * *

 

 **Bro == > _Watch Dirk fall in love_**  

You do.  You see it happening every night that Jake and Dirk hang out together, watching movies and TV shows, playing games, and laughing into the early morning hours.  You’re really so happy for them, and you know that it has to happen.

But it _hurts_.  It fucking hurts like hell.

You turn to the only source of comfort you’ve ever found in these situations.  Rather, she comes to you.

Her Imperious Condescension decided long ago on the name “Betty Crocker” to help her fit into the mortal world better.  Through controlling the baking industry, she has made herself an influential figure in the entrepreneurial and capitalistic state of the world.

Along with the Crocker Corporation, she owns quite a bit of the land, and you have a feeling it won’t be too many more centuries before she takes over everything completely.  You don’t have much of an opinion on it, as the current leaders seem about as competent as snails.  Assuming you still keep the Condesce’s favor in the following centuries, and you have a feeling you will, you’ll probably have a larger part to play in keeping world peace than you ever wanted.

Jake will too.  As a first guardian, you know that protecting the people of this universe is his responsibility.

The thought makes you pause as you consider it.  The entire _universe_ is Jake’s responsibility.  Why is he spending so much time with your one little planet?  One tiny speck in the vast universe.  Is there really so much trouble here that he has to spend his days on this planet?

Or is there something that convinced him to stay?

And is he—

—is he waiting for—

A feral growl from the Condesce reminds you that you have other responsibilities right now.  Gone are the days of meeting in her throne room. Now she owns penthouse suites on several high rises around the world, and she frequently invites you to enjoy her _company_.

Once you finish to her satisfaction, she tells you of the current demonic issues in the world.  You make a few cursory swipes at your thoroughly mussed hair and do your best to straighten your clothing into a presentable manner.  You take a couple seconds to scribble down the assignments on a small pad of paper you keep in your pocket and head out the door.

You’re late to arrive at work, and you sweep into the lounge to find Jake, Dirk, Dave, John, and Terezi all gathered around a “friendly” game of pool.  “Dirk. Dave.  Got your assignments,” you tell them tersely.

Dirk takes one look at you, and you can hear his critical thoughts.  Over the centuries, he has developed a strong hatred for the Condesce, and he thoroughly despises that you feed from her.  Little does he know your reasoning, and you don’t care to explain it to him.

“Thought you said you were gonna stop seeing her?” he drawls, looking at you like he’s better than you.

In a flash, you push him to the ground, placing your boot atop his chest.  You won’t have him saying things like that in front of others. 

You won’t have him saying that in front of _Jake_. 

“Was that a challenge, lil’ man?” you ask him, digging your heel down just a hint to show you will gladly strife and beat his ass if he wants.

“She’s not my problem,” Dirk says.  It looks like he’s trying to shrug and doing his best to look cool despite being trapped under your boot. 

You’ve gotta give him some points for trying, but you still want to strife him until he begs for mercy.  But you don’t.  Instead, you drop the assignments on top of his shades and say, “get to work.”

You can’t bear to look at Jake and to see what he thinks of this whole mess.  You don’t want to know what he would think if he knew the reason you got together with the Condesce in the first place was because of _him_.  Because you couldn’t stand being with anyone else besides him, and because feeding from her is the quickest and most platonic way to feed yourself.

And never once have you felt any pleasure from it.  Not once in the near thousand years that you’ve used Her Imperious Condescension. 

And you have used her.  Despite what she thinks, it’s been quite the opposite.  The Condesce, and the power she carries, rests in the palm of your hand now.  Not that you even know what to do with that power.

Rather than dwell on the thoughts any longer, you make your way back into your office and leave your brothers to their tasks.

* * *

 

 ** _BRO_** **== > _WATCH DIRK FALL IN LOVE_**  

Quite a bit of time passes.  It’s been about half a year since Jake came to work for you.

You manage to hold it together, and when you find yourself falling too deeply into despair, you visit the Condesce to knock it back out of you.  She’s actually quite good at setting your mind straight.  She reminds you of just what you have to do and sends you to kill the most powerful demons in the world.

So you do.  All the most fearsome monsters fall to your blade as you wipe them out cleanly with the fury of an incubus that has been sexually repressed for a thousand years.  One who is watching the love of his life fall for another.

Never mind that Dirk is actually you.  Jake loves someone else, and it fucking stings worse than the bitter winds of Antarctica, which you have recently visited to kill a hundred year old snow monster.  Dirk and Dave especially disliked its blood when you fed it to them.

You watch as Jake becomes Dirk’s best friend.  You watch your little brother fall further and further in love, without quite realizing it.  Dirk knows that he wants Jake, but as of right now, he still thinks it’s because he’s an incubus. 

And then the day finally comes.  A day that you have dreaded for quite some time.

John and Dave come back from their work a little bit early, bringing with them someone you never wanted to see again.

“Dude, we should just kill her,” you hear Dave say as they make their way down the hallway toward your office.

“No we can’t!” John insists.  “Just look at her!  She’s not hurting anyone at all! She was all out on her own like a stray cat!”

“—you did _not_ just make that joke, Egbert,” Dave says flatly.

“It wasn’t a joke!”  His tiny voice replies.  Then, after a second, he amends, “ok, maybe it was a _little tiny bit_ intentional— Hi Karkat!”

“Oh fuck no.  Egbert, Strider, tell me you didn’t just _bring one of your targets **back to the motherfucking bar!**_ ” Karkat’s annoyed voice drifts from down the hall to your door.

“I felt sorry for her!” John exclaims.

“John felt sorry for her,” Dave agrees simply.

“I am _not_ fucking deal with this hoofbeast shit,” Karkat mutters, which you catch despite his distance with your enhanced hearing.  Then, louder, he grumbles, “take it up with Bro and get out of my sight before I gouge out my own eyes.”

“Ok, bye Karkat!” John agrees happily.

They turn the corner into your doorway and your face pales.

Meulin Leijon.  They brought _fucking Meulin Leijon_ with them.

That means today is the day that you will flip your shit and kill half of your employees.  And really, they’re not your employees anymore.  Most of them never were. 

They’re your dearest friends. 

You’ve got to warn them, but first, you’ve got to get your brother out of here.  As usual, you show no emotion as you look at Dave and say, “you think this is a joke?”

“No,” Dave answers quickly.  “John felt sorry for her and—”

“I know,” you cut him off tersely.  “So you thought it was better to let _me_ clean up your mess?  Shit, thought I was done wiping your pasty ass centuries ago.”

You’re not _always_ this mean to Dave, but you _really_ want to get him out of here. You definitely don’t want him coming back tonight.  Inside, you cringe a little bit too, because you know that what you’re sending him to just might be worse than what would happen if you let him stay.

But you know that all of this has to happen.  Because you’re being a dickwad to him right now, he won’t come back tonight.

He’ll go straight home and be captured by agents from Derse.  He’ll sit in a prison cell for days, slowly losing his self-control.  He’ll _almost kill John_ —but Dirk will be there to stop it.

And because of all that, Dave and John will have their first kiss.

Dave is silent, waiting for your orders.

“Get out of here.  Go home,” you sigh, waving him away.  “I’ll fix your mess.”

Wordlessly, he nods and ducks away with John, leaving you alone with Meulin.

You stare at her.  She stares at you.  A tense few moments pass by, and you wonder just how things are going to go down.  The last time you saw her, she was dragon food for one of your best bartenders.

You decide not to let things get too out of hand.  Quickly, you flashstep to her side and grab her by the arm, pulling her down the hallway to the door leading to the basement.

Finally, she starts struggling against you, but you yank her off of her feet.  Flashstepping too quickly for her to gain her footing, you pull her hastily down the stairs and throw her into the magically enhanced cell you made just for this reason a long time ago.  She growls and scratches at the bars when you slam the door shut behind her.  It’s an awful horrible sound, but you’ll let her keep making it for a while.

You have to warn your friends about tonight first.

Ducking your head into Karkat’s office, you tell him, “get everyone in my office.  Now.”

Karkat raises an eyebrow at you.  “What about the customers?”

“They’ll be fine for a few minutes,” you answer shortly.

Karkat knows that this isn’t like you.  He’s actually a really good judge of character.  Wordlessly, he nods and gets up to help you gather everyone together.  Karkat collects the closer people in the lounge, and you flashstep your way to the bar area, informing the others.

In short time, all your dearest friends are gathered in your office.  Latula, the last to arrive, pulls the door shut behind her.

You waste no time breaking it to them.  “Tonight Kurloz Makara is going to attack here and possess me.  I want you all to get out of here before that happens.”

A tense moment passes while everyone processes what you just said.  Finally, a voice draws everyone’s attention.

“Bro, I’m far past the point of questioning how you know these things, because you’re always right,” Porrim says, stepping up from where she was leaning against the wall.  When she looks at you, there is conviction and gentle compassion behind her jade eyes.  “I took you in when you were alone and had nothing.  I’m not about to abandon you now.”

“I won’t either,” Kanaya also agrees, standing resolutely behind her sister.

“No,” you say, holding your hands out in a defensive motion.  “No no no.  Before anyone else can stand up and be a fucking hero-martyr, quit it.  You guys don’t get a choice here.  I don’t think you understand the situation.  Kurloz will control me.  If you stay, I will kill you.”

“Then that’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Terezi pipes in.  “I didn’t start this fight to give it up now.”

“Neither did I,” Latula agrees.

“No, fuck, am I speaking gibberish or something?” You sigh in annoyance. “What part of ‘go away or you will die’ don’t you understand?”

“We understand your words, and the meaning behind them,” Kankri says quietly and calmly from where he is sitting on your couch.  “But what I think everyone means to say is that one cannot assume that the best course of action is the same for every individual.  If you examine the psyche of the soul, and the tendencies in a person’s unique blood, then you will see that—”

“You aren’t getting rid of us,” Karkat says, cutting his cousin off before he can get started.

You’re silent for a moment, surveying the room, and reading each person’s thoughts.  Like Karkat said, it seems you won’t be getting rid of any of your employees tonight.

“You’re scared,” you murmur, shaking your head.  Sighing, you pull off your cap and rake your hands through your hair.  Then, you replace your hat and level a glare at all of them.  “All of you are scared.  I can hear it in your thoughts.  Don’t you want to run?”

“Fuck yeah I want to run,” Karkat admits quickly.  “But we can’t—no, we _won’t_ just leave you.  Whatever happens tonight, we’ll stand and face it together.”

“You all really feel this way?” you ask.  Even though you pose the question, you can hear the resounding affirmative from the minds of everyone.

One by one, they catch your eyes and nod.

“You’re all fucking crazy,” you mutter.  Another silent moment passes by.  Finally, you smirk and say, “All right then, if y’all want to stay, prove it to me. Get back to work, and try to discreetly get as many of the customers out as you can.  I’ll make a call to Jane Crocker after all this mess.  She’ll bring people back to life, but dying can change a person.  Not usually in the good way.  Let’s make sure that happens to as few people as possible.”

That wasn’t the most uplifting speech, but your friends scramble to do exactly as you say. 

By the time Dirk and Jake find you downstairs in the basement attempting to feed Meulin, everything is in place.  Many of the customers have been subtly ushered out, but a few, like Cronus, are not dissuaded.  You dig into your memory and try to recall if they will ever come back to Haven after this event, but you don’t really know.

“Bro, you remember she can’t hear, right?” Dirk says as he and Jake walk up beside you.

You place the milk you had been attempting to give Meulin on the floor just inside her cell and look over at them.  “Yeah, I know.  I wish John had just finished the job. He’s too kind for his own good.  Look at her. She doesn’t belong in a cell. She’s a feral animal.”

And she really is. Now that she is safely behind bars and not attacking you, it’s easy to notice the animalistic way she acts, her body crouched unnaturally over the milk, happily lapping it up with her tongue.  She glances up at Dirk and doesn’t seem to care one whit about him.  It’s when her eyes meet Jake that her entire body fills with a wild frenzy.  You see it happen before your eyes, as her muscles tense and she drops the milk onto the floor.  As if she’s propelled by some evil demonic force (and she probably is) she crashes into the bars, reaching desperately with clawed hands for Jake.   
  
 ** _ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH_**

“Ugh,” you groan, holding a hand up to your head as her thoughts bombard you.  They fill the entire room violently, and you’re certain that they are like a giant fireworks display to any telepath in the area. 

Like Kurloz.  It won’t take him long to find her like this. 

You hear Dirk ask something about what happened to her, and you respond, “I’m not sure.  She just keeps thinking ‘ENGLISH ENGLISH ENGLISH!’ over and over again. Her mind’s a fucking broken record.”

A few seconds pass by, and you watch both Dirk and Jake back hesitantly away from her.  She pouts sadly and sighs.  Though she doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t even _think_ in actual thoughts, you can tell from her feelings and odd thought patterns what she is thinking.

“She says she doesn’t want us to be scared of her.  She won’t hurt us.  She’s just really happy to see Jake,” you translate.  You glare at her from behind your shades.  You bet she’s happy to see Jake.  Rather, she’s happy to have found the demon inside him.

“You know her?” Dirk asks.

Jake looks confused.  His brows furrow for a moment and he is filled with consternation as he tries and fails to remember her.  Finally, he shakes his head.  “Not really.  I mean, I did have to fight her once, but I don’t recall meeting her any other time.”

You feel the affronted feelings come from Meulin and translate, “she’s insulted.  She says she helped you in the past.”

“She did?” he marvels, again digging into his memories.  You hear him futilely attempt to remember exactly what happened all that time ago, but the only things that come back are flashes of destruction. Images of ruin.  The same images that Jake will eventually show Dirk later.  When he realizes that he can’t remember, he reaches out and touches her hand, “I’m so sorry little one, I don’t remember that.”

Her mind flashes to Kurloz, and somehow you know what she’s thinking.  “She says Kurloz warned her that might happen.  She’s glad she got to see you again.”

Moment of truth.  You turn to Jake and gaze at him intently, watching his mind very carefully.  “You sure you don’t know her, English?”

“Positive,” he sighs with exasperation. 

Jake doesn’t remember.

Of course he doesn’t.  You wiped it from his mind.  Mystery fucking solved. Way to go Scooby Doo.

But _fuck_ you’re such a shithead.  What right did you really have to take those memories from him?  Why did you even fucking do it?  Granted, most of them were gone before you got there, but did you really have to erase _all of them_?

Yeah, you did.  Because Jake couldn’t fall in love with you.  Not when he has to fall in love with Dirk.

But fucking hell.  If you didn’t know better, you would say that he did anyway.  He kissed you back.  _He_ _fucking kissed you back_. 

Which means—

—which means absolutely nothing, since you took that memory from him.

Dirk makes some comment about never wanting to see Kurloz again.  This is the first time Kurloz has surfaced from Derse since Terezi sent him there long ago, but you did point him out to Dirk once when he visited Derse as a child.

Dirk crawled into your bed every night for an entire month to escape the nightmares.

Meulin’s upset, of course. You interpret, “she says Kurloz isn’t bad, he’s just being used.”

Yeah right.  You will believe that the same day Lord English decides he’s actually a really nice guy underneath it all.  Meulin’s thoughts continue to wander, and you begin to get mental images of other demons lurking nearby.  Not just any demons.  Agents.

They’re gathering. They’re waiting.

But for what?

“Hmm, she’s got a lot of intel on a large demon base nearby.  It’s—extensive,” you pause, probing into her thoughts a bit deeper. 

The agents become more clear in your mind, and you almost shudder when you see their faces.  You know at least one of them.  Spades Slick.  And three others.  The three you assume captured you and Jake that fateful night long ago.

But you don’t have time to think about this now.  The clock is ticking and you _have_ to get Dirk and Jake out of here.  They have to miss the first wave of Kurloz’s assault.

So you fake a wince and clutch the side of your head.  You take off your orange cap like you have become accustomed to doing, and run your fingers through your hair before putting it back on.  “Ugh, look, I hate to break it to ya, but reading her frantic thoughts is really taxing. It’s like a fucking ICP concert full of rainbow Faygo showers in there. Let’s wrap this up and head back outside.”

You lead the way back up the stairs, lingering as Jake thanks Meulin.

“Why’d you thank her?” Dirk asks him.

“She claims to have helped me in the past. I don’t remember it, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t thank her for it,” Jake explains.

Your throat tightens.  You remember this moment.

Quickly, you delve into Dirk’s thoughts.

“ _So good-natured. No wonder I’m in love with this guy,_ ” Dirk thinks.  You actually hear him pause and take a small quick breath.“ _Wait.  Love?  Ugh.  Fuck fuck fuck!  When did that happen?  Half a year ago I didn’t know Jake!  How did I grow to love him so fast?_ ”

How indeed.  It’s a question you don’t think you’ll ever be able to answer.

Dirk goes on to do his “Dirk-patented” John Egbert test.  He doesn’t want to fuck John, which means he’s not hungry.

“ _Shit. I do love him,_ ” Dirk thinks forlornly.  Goddamn it, the kid is so emo.  Who the fuck is sad about being in love?

Oh. You.  Heh, guess you never grew out of it.

You glance back at Dirk, your own sign that you heard that thought.  Despite maintaining his expression, you see the redness seep into the skin of his cheeks. 

You could lay it on him right now.  You’d love to, but one, your heart couldn’t take it, and two you just don’t have the time.  Instead, you lead the way into your office.

Unsuspecting of anything, Jake follows you both.  He still looks a bit guilty from not remembering Meulin, but he has no idea what just transpired between you and Dirk.  His mind is wandering to a 10:30 show of some horrible movie in the theaters.  Jake’s very excited about it and hopes that he’ll be able to catch it with Dirk.

He doesn’t know that Dirk loves him.

He doesn’t know that your past self loves him.

He doesn’t know that _you love him_.

Fuck this got complicated.

Deciding it’s best to just ignore it for now, you plunge on ahead with your plan to get them out ASAP.  “You saw how defensive Meulin was about Kurloz.  That means he’s out there. She claims he’s not a threat, but if we’re holding her captive here, you can bet your ass he’ll be shortly behind.”

“So you want us to stay here and protect the fort?” Dirk asks. 

No. No that’s the opposite of the reaction you wanted.

“Negative, lil’ man,” you respond smoothly, shaking your head.  “You’ve got work to do out there.”

Dirk looks like he’s about to say something, when Jake pipes up.  “I say, they seem to have no shortage of demon hunters.”

You love Jake right now.  Even more than usual.  And you silently give thanks to whatever higher being exists that Jake said something.  You’re quick to respond.

“Got that right.  And don’t forget, the best hunter of us all is here,” you say, grinning and pointing your thumb at yourself to get a rise out of Dirk.  “Me.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dirk mutters like he doesn’t care, but he does.  He _knows_ you’re the best, and he can’t wait until the day that he’ll be able to beat you.

Suddenly, you realize that _that day_ will never come.  Before Dirk will ever have a chance to beat you, he’ll be sent back into the past to _become_ you.

It’s a tragedy.  He’ll never win. You’ll never win. 

You’re not sure what happened to Bro after you left, but you know he must be smirking at you from somewhere.  He’ll always have one over on you.

But now isn’t the time to think about Bro. It’s time to get one last rise out of Dirk before you kick him out.

“Now get outta here,” you say, handing their assignment paper to Dirk.  You can’t help the smirk that comes to your lips.  You feel Dirk’s dread at what you’re about to say, and you love it.  You fucking love it to pieces.  “With any luck, you’ll finish early and be able to catch that 10:30 show.”

Jake immediately brightens, and you feel the happiness bursting out of him with the prospect of seeing the movie.  Dirk does his best to keep a straight face, but you feel the loathing in his soul as they both walk away.

For a little while, things settle back into a tense normalcy.  10:30 rolls around, and you know that Dirk and Jake are sitting in the theater watching some terrible film.  You also know that Dirk is thinking about his newfound love.  He’s mulling it over and arguing with AR over it. 

As you sit in your office chair thinking it over yourself, you feel Kurloz’s presence invade your territory.  He’s clearly heard the beacon of Meulin’s thoughts, and he’s come for her.

Your jaw tenses as you reach for your katana.  You know what’s going to happen. You know, and you warned everyone, but they’re all still here. You can feel the presence of all your friends, going about their business in the bar as if they aren’t going to die shortly. 

But they chose this path.  As did you.  You can only hope things will be different. You’ll be damned (again) if you don’t try your hardest not to get possessed this time.

Yet, with a sinking feeling, you know that this time will be no different than the last.  As you pass by Karkat’s office, you tell him, “ ** _hide_**.”

Karkat isn’t under your influence.  At least, you don’t think he is.  But silently he nods to you.  He knows what his role in this whole mess is going to be.

It’s going to be clean-up.

* * *

 

 **Bro == > Put up a fight** 

You certainly do.

You meet Kurloz just outside the door and fight him for all of five seconds before he places you under his control again.  You try to block him out, but you can’t.  Your mind has been open to reading thoughts for a thousand years now, and you never bothered to try _not_ reading them.

You’re an easy target for Kurloz Makara.  He snatches control of your mind quickly.

And then, you go on a killing spree.

They put up a good fight, your employees.  Your friends. 

You wish that they wouldn’t resist you like this.  If they’d just let Kurloz through, then you wouldn’t have to do this to them.  You wouldn’t have to slice them open like butter and paint the floors and walls with their blood.

One by one, they fall.  You lose track of the number that you kill or injure enough to incapacitate them.

The last two to fall are Terezi and Kanaya, who follow you down to the cellar where Meulin is being held captive.

They were such good employees. Such loyal friends. You really hate to do this to them, but it’s for their own good.

And then, you sense _him_ coming.  That other you is only going to get in your way.  You’d better take him out quickly.

When Dirk comes down the stairs, you quickly throw a handful of ninja stars at him, but he dodges out of the way.  Damn.

“Bro?” he says, and something about him seems a little off.  But you don’t think about it.  He’s in your way, so you have to stop him too.

You strife, and in the first swing of your katana, you draw blood on his arm.  This fight is going to be fast, you think.

You’re not holding anything back.  You haven’t for centuries, but usually you toy with him a bit.  In the past, you used to drag Lil Cal out and fight with him. 

Usually, your strifes are full of taunting.  Knock him to the ground. Mock him for a few seconds.  Let him lunge at you. Knock him to the ground again. Mock him some more.

But tonight, you’re going for the kill.  He’s in Kurloz’s way. You can’t let him leave here alive.

He’s shouting some things to Jake, but you don’t pay attention to him.  Jake won’t get in your way. 

You fight, and slowly but surely you wear him down.  You’ve drawn blood a few times now.  Dirk won’t last too much longer.  Soon, he will be out of your way too.

Suddenly, a loud sound fills the air, and you collapse to the ground like a rag-doll.

What—what are you doing?

What are you—

—oh fuck.

There’s talking around you, but you don’t comprehend what’s being said.  Your mind is reeling from having Kurloz’s control pulled forcefully from your mind.  A quick glance at the pile of purple dust on the floor tells you that it’s because Kurloz died.

Karkat’s voice comes into clarity first.  “—no way in hell I’m getting close enough to grubfucking psychic Makara for him to work his mind-control douchery on me. Look at what it did to Bro! Half our office is gone.”

“That many?” you murmur quietly.  You knew the toll was going to be heavy, but you didn’t know it would be _that_ bad.  Looks like there will be a lot of clean up and apologies in order.  You struggle to sit up and get started.

Dirk is at your side instantly, helping you up.  “Yeah. It’s pretty bad upstairs,” he agrees.

“Fuck,” you swear, thinking about everything that will have to be done.  Of course, you knew this was coming, and you’ve been through it all in your mind quite a few times.  It still doesn’t make it hurt any less.  You turn to Karkat and pointedly tell him, “I need you to help the others upstairs.  Anyone who’s still alive. Call in Jane. We’re going to need her.”

Karkat and Jane have some issues.  You know that and you don’t care.  “Do we have to call her? We could—” he stops in his tracks when you glare at him.  “Fine fine, one Crocker bitch coming your way.”

Once Karkat leaves, it’s just you, Dirk, Jake, and the bodies of your two friends in the basement.  And some demon dust, but that doesn’t count.

You can’t understand why your friends stayed.  You warned them that this was going to happen.  That you’d flip out and kill everyone.  But they stayed.  They stayed and now—

“Kurloz was controlling you,” Dirk says, bringing your attention from your thoughts.  “This wasn’t your fault.”

“Like hell it wasn’t,” you growl with frustration, taking off your cap just long enough to rake your fingers through your hair.  “Kurloz got to me _easier_ because I’m a telepath. I couldn’t block him out.”

“Then that’s something you’ll just have to work on, but we have other things to worry about right now,” Dirk says.  You sense the shift in his feelings instantly as he thinks, “ _like Dave_.”

Oh no.

“Hey, have you seen Dave tonight?” he asks.  Now he’s thinking about a phonecall from one frantic John Egbert. 

You remember that phonecall.  You remember what happened to your brother this night, and it sends a pang of worry through your heart.

Dave was captured by agents and taken to Derse. He’s probably sitting in the cell already.  He’s probably been there most of the evening.

For Dave, that’s already a few Derse days.

But you can’t say any of these things.  Dirk has to figure out where his brother is all on his own, and save him on his own.  It has to take longer.  Dave has to be stuck in Derse longer.  “Not since he brought in Meulin.  Why?” you ask, making sure to look concerned. It isn’t hard since you _are_ concerned about Dave.

Dirk is immediately filled with worry.  “John called a little while ago.  He sounded more freaked out than usual.”

“Fuck,” you growl again. Now that you’re thinking about it, you think some of this was in Meulin’s jumbled thoughts.  You never saw Dave in her thoughts, but there was a peculiar plot in place. One that you still don’t fully understand.

The plot aside, one fact is certain.  Dave was captured by agents from Derse.  And not just any agents.  You have a feeling Dave’s kidnapping involves a certain crew of four problematic agents. 

The Midnight Crew.

“I’ve gotta get to him,” you murmur, flashstepping over to the staircase.  It’s a ruse, of course.  Dirk has to be the one to go.

Dirk is beside you instantly, placing a hand on your shoulder and shaking his head.  “Nah, Bro, you’ve got a lot to handle here.  I’ll take care of him.  Where’d you send him?”

You allow Dirk to stop you in your tracks. Instead of running up the stairs, you turn to him and say, “that’s the problem.  I didn’t send him anywhere else.  He could be anywhere.  He could be—”

“Chill,” Dirk says.  He’s feeling overly confident, which kind of makes you proud.  If you squint hard enough, you can see the leader your little brother will grow up to be.  “I know his usual hangouts.  I’ll find our baby bro and make sure he’s safe.”

“Ok, we’ll play it your way.  But at the first sign of trouble—” you trail off and give him a _look_.

“I’ll call you. Got it,” he finishes.  Without another word, he collects a frazzled Jake and heads back upstairs.

This is going to be Dirk’s problem now.  Finding and saving his brother.  You know that you can trust him to do the job right.  After all, he’s _you_ and you did the job just fine a thousand years ago.  Still, it doesn’t settle the sense of unease in the pit of your stomach.

Because if he _doesn’t_ succeed, there are terrible consequences.  If somehow you did something wrong over the last millennia, you slipped up once, something happened slightly out of line, things just might be different this time.

Dave could die.

But you can’t think about that.  You have to trust that even if something is a little bit off, Dirk is still just as competent as you were.  You have to lay your youngest brother’s life in his hands.

After all this time, you’ve watched Dirk grow. You’ve seen him become the most competent hunter on your team.  And after all this time, you’ve finally come to a conclusion.

You trust Dirk.  You trust the man that you raised with your own hands to do everything he can to save the world.  Because pretty soon, that’s exactly what he will be doing.  It won’t just be the life of your brother in his hands. 

It will be the entire universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for Bro's emoness in this chapter. Also for waiting this long to call him "Bro." It's hard to give up the ghost.
> 
> Once again, I really wanted to add more onto this chapter, but then it would have been dreadfully long! Alas, I don't have the next chapter written in any fashion, or I would share that like last time. Please be patient! Grad school is getting difficult for me again, but I'll try my best to bring you the end of this story soon.
> 
> Thanks for reading this far! Hope you found this entertaining. =)


	27. A Brother's Love

**Bro == > Pretend you care about Dave** 

You don’t have to pretend, because you _do_ care about Dave.  The only difference is that you know the kid will be fine, whereas Dirk and all of your other employees don’t know that.

Jane Crocker arrives shortly after receiving Karkat’s call and shudders in horror.  “Bro, did you do all of this?” she asks, looking up at you in a way you can only describe as _appalled_.

“Yes, I did,” you regretfully respond. “I was being mind controlled, but that is no excuse.”

Jane surveys the scene doubtfully.  “This—is going to be difficult. I don’t think I’ve ever been called for clean up quite this big before.  And with the variety of demons here, I don’t even know if my abilities will work on all of them.”

“That’s fine, I only ask that you try,” you say, a note of desperation in your voice. 

Damn.  Killing your best friends had a bigger impact on you than you realized.

You look at her imploringly and say, “please help them. They don’t deserve what I did to them. They don’t deserve to die.”

She looks at you sympathetically and nods.  “They won’t die today.”

Jane keeps her word.  One by one, she brings them all back.  She even does what she can to heal the ones who are just injured, pouring all of herself into her work.

Jane looks a little bit winded after breathing life back into so many people, and she sits down heavily on your couch in your office.  “Bro, next time you decide to go on a murderous rampage, try to make it somewhere that is slightly less populated, ok?”  she asks, fanning herself off with her hands.

“Will do,” you murmur, flipping on the overhead fan.  “Anything else I can get you?  I have what’s left of the bar if you’re interested.”

“Thank you,” she breathes, leaning back and basking in the breeze.  “A glass of water does sound delightful.”

You nod and flashstep away.  Eventually, you locate an intact glass, wash it off, and fill it with water.  But you set the glass aside when you hear Dirk, John, and Jake talking to Jane.

“Jane?” you hear Jake ask, in a voice that is just a _tad_ too happy for your tastes.

“Oh my god, Jake?  Jake English? Is that you?!”  you hear Jane’s happiness to see him as she leaps into Jake’s arms.

Yep, jealousy still hurts just as much the second time around as the first.

You bite it back and listen as they banter back and forth a bit until Dirk steps in.  “You know each other?” he asks.  The envy is ripe in his voice.

“Oh yeah, Jake and I go way back!” Jane exclaims, the happiness in her voice making it clear that she has no idea about the jealousy Dirk is feeling.

“Way way back,” Jake agrees, and his voice sounds just a _bit too flirtatious_ for your liking.  You know that they were a thing in the past.  And you know that they probably did—

—well you don’t want to think about what they did.  You’re glad when Dirk interrupts your thoughts and their conversation asking, “any idea where Bro is?  We still have a little bro to save.”

“What happened to Dave?” Jane asks.

That’s your cue to enter.  You flashstep beside Dirk and chime in, “yes, what happened to Dave?”

“Derse agents took him back to Derse!” John exclaims, flying frantically in front of your face.  The fairy looks beside himself with grief.  You can see from his puffy reddened eyes that he has been crying a good portion of the night. 

You feel guilty for causing John so much anguish, but you know that this is all necessary.  Tonight is an important step in their relationship, and not even you would deny them that.

“Is there a portal around stable enough to take us to Derse and back?  We have to save him!” John exclaims, fixing you with those sad blue eyes that are impossible to say no to.

You tense, thinking of what has to happen and what you need to do.  Of course there is a portal to Derse.  It’s in your closet just a few feet away.

But if you let them go through that portal, they’ll get to Derse too quickly.  Dave won’t starve long enough, and he might still have enough control to stop himself from feeding off John and almost killing him.

Dave might stop himself from kissing his boyfriend.

It takes you a moment to weigh all of this out, because truly you would like nothing more than to send them through your closet portal, where Dave will be back safely in your care within the hour.

But you can’t.  Like so many frustrating things about time travel, you know you can’t.

“Yes, I think there is one,” you finally murmur.

You feel the spark of hope in Dirk as he asks, “where?”

“It won’t be easy to get to,” you murmur cryptically.

You send them to the portal in a volcano off the coast of the land.  It will take Dirk a few hours on his rocketboard to fly them there.  Another few days will pass in Derse before they reach it.

Like a phantom, Her Imperious Condescension walks up behind you after they leave.

“You’re sendin’ the kid through the volcano,” the Condesce murmurs beside you.  “You got a portal in the closet literally _ten feet away_.  Why you makin’ the kid go through all a that?”

“Because it will take him longer to get there,” you reply. “Enough time has to pass here for Dave to starve a few days in Derse.”

Betty grins at you.  “And here I thought _I_ was the sadistic one.”

“You don’t get it.  This is the first time John changes from fairy sized to human sized,” you murmur, remembering the scene vividly in your mind.  “They have their first kiss.  It’s a big moment for my little bro, and it happens because John is so worried about him.”

The Condesce sits on your desk, musing thoughtfully at you.  “How cute.  Isn’t that fairy boy nearly two centuries old by now?  He should know how to change his size.  He’s a little bit— _behind_ —don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you agree, raising your eyebrow at the Condesce in surprise to her attention to detail.  “Thought you didn’t care about my employees.”

“Your business is _my business_ , Bro,” she murmurs, eying you predatorily.

“Creepin’ me out a little,” you murmur.  You’ve long since started telling her exactly how her bizarre advances make you feel.

Like usual, she laughs it off, heading for your closet portal.  “I’ll keep an eye on the kiddies for you.  You know where to find me if you need me.”

She vanishes, closing and locking the door behind her.  You’ve never been certain how she does that, but you don’t question her abilities.

Not a minute after she leaves, Jane stumbles back into your office and flops unhappily down on your couch.  “They left without me,” she complains.

“You’d have burnt to a crisp in that volcano,” you point out flatly.

“Yeah I know,” she says, her exhaustion showing through as she yawns.

“Why don’t you take a nap?” you suggest.  “They won’t be back for at least 5 hours.”

“I think—that sounds—swell—” Jane mumbles.  Her head bobs a couple times until it rests on the matching small brown pillow that came with the couch.  She’s out in ten seconds.

It does take them about five hours to get back.  When you feel them approaching, you make your way out to the front, tapping Jane’s shoulder gently on the way to wake her up.

By the time they are in sight, you’re outside waiting.  When Dirk lands the rocketboard on the ground, Dave practically flies into your waiting arms.

“I got ya, lil’ man.  I got ya,” you murmur to him, holding him tightly and beginning to pour your energy into him.

“I fucked up,” Dave says, his voice quiet, choked and almost inaudible.  He quivers in your arms as you hold him, feeding him your energy where your hand is touching his neck and his face is burrowed into yours. “I fucking _fucked up_ and I might have killed John and _fuck_!  You told me to work on my control. I’ve been working on my control, but I was _starving_ and _fuck!_ ”

Your little bro shudders in your arms, and you can tell he’s trying hard to hold back sobs. “Dave, shut up,” you tell him gently.

But Dave does not shut up. 

Instead, he continues to blubber on, “Bro, I don’t know what to do, John didn’t do _anything_ and I might have _killed him_ and all I wanted to do was _kiss him!_ I shoulda never have gotten involved with him. I shoulda just ignored him and never told him I love him and never put him in danger and—”

“Shut the fuck up for a second and listen to me,” you murmur in the most consoling voice you have.  Your words aren’t kind, they never have been to your brothers, but Dave recognizes that this is a marvelous feat of compassion immediately.

Still, he doesn’t shut up.  “Bro, I shouldn’t have let him love me!  If he never loved me, then this wouldn’t have happened and—”

That all hits a little bit too close to home.  It reminds you of the past 1000 years of avoiding loving Jake, whether that worked or not.  You absolutely do _not_ want to think about that with the object of your love (namely one Jake English) standing not twenty feet away. 

Before Dave can say anything else, you take the back of his head and force his face into the crook of your neck.  You sense the bloodlust suddenly flare within him, and a second later, he bites through your skin with sharp teeth.  It hurts for a bit, but then the pain recedes as he begins to drink from you.

Dave finally shuts up long enough for you to speak. 

“One, you didn’t kill John.  He’s sleeping in Dirk’s pocket, right?  He’s alive,” you pause for a moment, assessing your brother. 

You can tell that Dave wants to say something, but he can’t stop drinking.  He’s too weak to deny your blood.  Good.  You take the opportunity to continue.  “Two, this wasn’t your fault.  There’s only so much we can do once the demon inside us takes hold.  Control has nothing to do with it, but yours _will_ get better with time.  Three, John wants this relationship just as much as you.  Don’t discredit him or his feelings like that.  John knew what he was getting into.  If anything let this show you just how much that little fuck loves you.”

Dave is silent for a while, clinging to you tightly.  You’re surprised that he’s still feeding.  Usually it doesn’t take this long.  Then again, you’ve never let the kid starve this long before.

You hear Jake ask Dirk, “is that what Bro did for you?”

This catches your attention and makes you finally glance up at the two of them.  You notice that Dirk is wearing those comfortable purple pajamas that Kanaya made him years ago.  You miss those PJs.  They were so cozy.

Dirk nods and replies, “Bro gives the best hugs.”

You grin at them and give them a thumbs-up.

Finally, Dave pulls away, licking the last couple drops of blood off your skin as your wounds close.  His thoughts are a jumbled mess, but you hear a few that give you pause. “ _Bro’s blood always tastes the best.  Why?_ ”

“Because I fed it to you when you were a baby, you dipshit,” you mutter to him.  “You drank my blood until you were five.  Did you forget that?”

“Nope,” Dave says.  Then, he grins at you and notes, “so you _do_ have a heart,”

“Yes I do,” you turn him around and smack him on the back, ushering him toward Dirk.  “Now go get the other half of yours back.”

Dave seems to forget all about you as he sheepishly walks over to Dirk.  He holds out his hands and asks, “can I have him back now?”

“Show me your eyes,” Dirk says.

He’s growing up to be the demanding older brother that you were.  Aww.

Dave listens, and eventually Dirk carefully hands the tiny fairy back to him.  “John, I’m so sorry,” he murmurs.

While Dave is lost in worry over his boyfriend, Dirk comes up to you and asks, “anything you need help with?  The place looks better, but you look like shit.”

You know a pity offer when you see one.  You wave him away and say, “You’ll have plenty to do tomorrow, trust me. Get some sleep.  Take Dave with you and keep an eye on him.  And both of you—”

You pause, waiting for both of your brothers to look up at you.  When you have their attention, you carefully tell them, “take care of each other.  That goes without saying.”

Without another word, you hold out your fist to them.  They both wordlessly fistbump you back.

It’s an unspoken Strider promise.

A promise that you know Dirk will keep.

Jane leaves with them.  Once Dirk’s Jeep disappears down the street, you turn back to your nearly empty bar and sigh.

You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Work** 

Long after you send everyone else home, you stay up, working on repairing Haven bit by bit.  In all honesty, you have thought of this pace as Haven since you built it, even though you never officially named the place.  Something always held you back, as if you’d be giving a part of yourself up if you let others know what this place truly meant to you.

A haven, in every sense of the name.  A place where demons can escape the wrath of the angels hunting them and whatever burdens life throws at them.  Feferi has kept good on her promise not to attack Haven or any of your employees.  You feel a little bit guilty that so many innocent demons are dying by her order, all in their search for the most terrible monster of them all.

The monster that happens to also inhabit the body of the man you love.  Conveniently, he is one of your employees, so even if Feferi _did_ figure out that Lord English resides inside Jake, she would have to break her word to attack him.

You don’t know Feferi that well.  She could do it, you suppose, but you get the feeling that she is the type to honor her words.  Besides, if this all works out the way you have planned, she may not even need to do anything at all.

But you can’t think about that now or let any of that get to you. It would cause you far too much anguish, and the result would be the same either way. 

You could never kill Jake. You’ve tried that before, and you have the deaths of your parents as the bitter proof of that fact.

You realize, with a heavy heart, that there is very little you can actually do to change the outcome of things.  Fate must progress the way it was written before.  But at least there is one small thing you can do.  You can finally let others into your inner sanctum.  You’ll allow them to see the name of the place you worked so hard to build and exactly what it means to you.

Just like Dirk will let Jake in tonight.  You remember what happens tonight.  You’ve replayed the scene in your mind a million times or more over the course of the years.

Tonight Jake will become Dirk’s boyfriend.

It could be happening right now.  You were so caught up in _Jake_ that night that you didn’t even think about time.  AR could probably tell you the exact second it happened, but you don’t think you want to know.

Tonight will be the first of many happy days for Dirk.  It will also be the first of many hardships to come.

Loving Jake English, you have found, is no small task.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Do something about your empty bar** 

It doesn’t surprise you when nobody but your employees show up the following evening.

And Cronus.  But you think that guy would follow Kankri to Hell and back.  You know you would for Jake.

Speaking of, you hear the sound of Dirk’s Jeep outside, and you know _exactly_ where you’re going to send them tonight.

You listen as all of your recently revived friends attempt to relieve their boredom by talking to your brothers.  Finally, they make it into the back hallway, and you hear Karkat telling them about the recent appearance of their new targets. 

“You got a couple tailgaters,” Karkat sighs.

“A couple?” Dirk asks.

You flashstep behind Karkat and pretend it doesn’t give you extreme satisfaction to see the short troll jump.  “The Nitrams.  Party criminals,” you explain.

“Party dudes? Who cares about them?” Dave asks with ennui that is far too heavy even for him.  He’s frightfully thin and clutching John in a far too overprotective way.  And—is that your old orange towel he’s using to bundle the fairy up?  You think it is.

“Not you,” you inform him firmly.  “You’re staying put right here tonight. There’s Loch Ness Monster blood in the fridge with your name on it.  When you finish that, you can play pool with Terezi.”

Terezi yells with glee from the other room, but your sight is set on Dave, who is clearly disgusted with the prospect of both being trapped here with you and drinking nasty blood.  It only takes one pointed look before he is sighing and shuffling slowly back toward your office, grumbling about oppression and the chains of the world.

You’re about to think about how your youngest brother is always too overdramatic, but the words die in your brain when you look at Dirk.

And you realize that yes, he and Jake really are an item now.

Dirk is dating Jake.

This is a thing that is happening.

You start to think that _maybe_ Dave learned about how to be overdramatic from somewhere.

Maybe he got it from you.

You don’t let any of your thoughts show, and you start talking before Dirk can even suspect that something is up.  “Since they’re out of the game, that means it’s your job to bring in the Nitrams.”

“Bring them in?” Dirk questions. “Don’t people literally die from partying with them for weeks without sleeping?”

If only it were weeks.  Dirk and Dave might not have slept quite as many years of their lives away in Derse.

“Yeah, but Rufioh and Tavros aren’t actually bad.  You know that.  They just need to know that maybe that’s kosher in Derse, but that shit ain’t flying around here,” you explain.  “Besides, if there’s one thing they do know, it’s how to get a party started.  That’s something we could use around here right about now.”

Dirk, Jake, and Jane leave in tandem shortly after that for the Nitram’s rave party.  There’s surprisingly little for Jane to do around here now, and you know that Dirk will need her to slap some sense into him soon.  Heh.

Tonight Dirk will experience the party high that the Nitrams bring with them everywhere they go.  He’ll fall victim to it.  He’ll get lost in it.

And then he’ll put Jake under his influence for the first time.

Until Jane bitch-slaps him out of it, that is.  Good ol’ Jane. You can always count on her to pull through for you.

You’re waiting in the front of the lounge again by the time Dirk pulls up.  The angstful feelings of self-loathing spreads around him like a giant cloud, and you _know_ that things went exactly according to the timeline.

The Nitrams get out and make their way to you.  “Brooooo!” Rufioh says happily, fistbumping you.

You bump him back and glance questionably at the Jeep.  You were certain that you drove off in a fit of rage at yourself by now.

Right on cue, Dirk peels away down the street.  There it is.

“So Dirk tells me you need help getting a party started?” Rufioh asks.

“That’s right,” you agree.  “Kind of killed everyone yesterday so they’re afraid of coming back.”

“Ooh,” Rufioh winces, sucking in a sharp breath.  “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“But uhh, I really think we can bring them back!” Tavros says cheerfully.

“Shit yeah,” Rufioh agrees, slinging one arm around his brother’s shoulder and the other around yours.  Pulling you both toward the door, he starts his grand plan.  “Here’s what we’ll do.”

* * *

 

**Bro == > Fix up Haven** 

Damn.  Hanging signs is a lot harder than you thought it would be.  So is interior design.

Rufioh and Tavros seem to have quite a knack for it.  There’s a gleam in Kanaya’s eye as she watches them set their plans into motion, but you can’t tell if it’s good or bad.  It’s like an episode of _Extreme Makeover: Home Edition_.  It never would have crossed your mind to do half the things the Nitrams do, but you don’t question it.  You’re sure they know what they’re doing.

They do.

By the time they’ve finished, the bar area feels more like a nightclub.  And though the lounge retains its cozy atmosphere, there’s a fresh modern feel to it that you could eventually get into.  You feel their demonic power laced into everything that they do.  Even though Haven does look good, you have a feeling it could have been a total dive and it still would have enticed the droves of people it attracts.

And oh, does it bring in the customers.

Not long after you finally get Haven’s sign installed, people start arriving.  Curious people are popping in, and it’s still daytime.  Humans and demons alike swarm in.  Everyone blends together under the power of the Nitram’s abilities, and none of the humans ever suspect that there are demons in their midst.

It’s a verifiable shitstorm out there, and you don’t have the time to deal with it.  So you send Karkat to handle the mess of people.

Karkat is less than thrilled, but he does it.  He knows that you need the help.

Meanwhile, you check in on Dave, who is huddled on the couch in your office cradling the still sleeping John.  Dave would never admit to crying, and he does a decent job of keeping any signs off his face.  But his thoughts don’t lie.  You see just what an emotional wreck he is, and you pity him.

Despite literally taking John’s energy until he passed out and also taking your energy and blood yesterday, your little bro is still far too thin and weak.  You attempt to give him some sasquatch blood in a giant cup from the gas station.  He drinks about half of it before he’s heaving over your trashcan.   You’ll admit, sasquatch blood doesn’t taste the best, but he’s never done this before.

When you look at your youngest brother, you realize the grim truth.  Dave is so in love with John that this is literally destroying him with worry.  When you look into his thoughts, you realize that he hasn’t slept since coming back.  He obviously hasn’t eaten.

Dave is too much of a wreck to do anything. 

So you give him a comforting hug, transferring him a bit more of your energy despite being a bit wiped yourself from feeding him last night.  And that whole being possessed ordeal.

Damn, did that all happen in one night?  Yes. Yes it did.

You let Dave sit alone with John in your office.  If you remember correctly, John will wake up in a few days.  You can’t wait for it.  Seeing your brother this way burns you with guilt, because you know that this could have been avoided.

But then the timeline would have been angry.  Always the timeline.  You’ll be so glad when you catch up to the day you left and can say “fuck the timeline.”

Jane swings by during the day to let you know she’s leaving.  Her eyes are no longer tearful and red, but you remember what she discussed with Dirk last night.  They talked about Jake.  She admitted to Dirk that she wasn’t the right one to fix all of Jake English’s problems.

Knowing what you know now, you completely agree.  Before she goes, you pull her into a hug.  She seems caught off balance, but she returns it.  “It will get better,” you promise her.

“How can you be so sure?” she asks.  “How can you _always be so sure_?”

You shrug.  “Because I know.”

Except that you totally don’t know.  You aren’t really sure what will happen to Jane, because it didn’t happen before you left 1000 years ago.  Somehow, you get the feeling that her life’s events will end up exactly as they were meant to be.

Jane leaves long before Dirk and Jake arrive.  Immediately, you can tell that they’ve had a conversation of their own and are far more— _comfortable_ —with each other than they were before.

“Like the new look?”  You ask Dirk, eager to get the conversation started when they come find you in the back.  “Bet it’d be easy now to find someone to—oohhhh—”

You can’t go there.  You can’t.  For once, you stop right in the middle of your sentence.

Dirk is holding Jake’s hand. 

It’s a small symbol of their affection for each other.  Insignificant in the grand scheme of things.  Don’t friends hold each other’s hands sometimes?  It doesn’t necessarily mean anything has changed between them.

But this is Dirk.  This is your younger brother.  This is also you.  And you know yourself.  You know you’d never hold hands with someone if they weren’t very special to you.

It warms and burns your heart.

You can’t speak.  Your words are stolen from you as your throat and mouth run dry.  But you can’t let Dirk think that something is wrong, so wordlessly, you offer him a fist-bump.

Dirk bumps you back and asks, “how is John?”

With the shift in the conversation, your voice returns to you.  “Kid’s still asleep. Dave’s worried sick.  Like literally, little shit puked in my trashcan a couple times already. Waste of perfectly good sasquatch blood.”

You smirk when you feel Dirk’s instant repulsion to the drink.  You assure him, “don’t worry, you’ll get your turn.”  Before he can complain, you ask, “like what the Nitrams have done with the place?”

“It’s an improvement over yesterday.  Where are they?” he asks.

“In the crowd somewhere, doing their thing.  Everyone’s making sure they don’t let the humans party too hard,” you explain, waving toward the lounge.  “Anyway, Dave’s not going anywhere tonight which means _you’ve_ got some work to do.”

Dirk frowns when you hand him his assignments.  “This is it?”

“Despite all the new informants out there, there isn’t much news.  Derse is lying low.  That means they’re planning something,” you inform him.  You don’t like this at all.  Silence from Derse is never a good sign.  You’ll have to ask the Condesce about it later.  “Keep your guard up.  We have no idea when they might strike.”

Dirk and Jake leave, and you’re left alone with a worried sick brother and a bar full of strangers.  Ok, you guess you’re not really alone.

You sigh.  You’ve got a shit ton of work to do.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Make Haven awesome!** 

Shit yeah.  This place was awesome before you even named it Haven.  But the Nitrams have really helped business pick up.  Haven soon becomes a refuge for not only demons but a large chunk of humans too.  You hear about it in the thoughts of several humans as you walk down the street.  It brings a smile to your face, but it’s also unsettling.

You’re not really sure what to do with all of this popularity.  So you do the only thing you can think to do.

You send Kanaya out to the front to keep people in line with her chainsaw.  Yep, that should do it.

The Condesce continues to visit you regularly, but when you ask her about Derse, she frowns.  “Can’t say I’ve heard a anythin’,” she murmurs thoughtfully.

“Are you _sure_ the agents aren’t planning something?” you ask doubtfully.

She grins at you widely, proudly showing off all of her ridiculously sharp teeth.  “Maybe they just like you.”

“I think ‘like’ isn’t the right word,” you mutter back.

“Could be that boy a yours,” the Condesce muses.  “ _Jake English_ is a favorite among them.”

Hearing her say Jake’s name makes you apprehensive immediately.  He doesn’t usually come up in your conversations.  You know that the Condesce loathes Lord English more than any other being, except possibly her sister, and she avoids speaking about both of them.  “Why?” you ask.

“Hard to say.  I don’t keep track a all my demons,” she murmurs.

“And why not?!” you ask, feeling a strange rage rising in you.  You don’t like the way she’s talking about Jake.  As if she doesn’t care that the agents are talking about him.  That they might be planning to kill him.  Then again, why would she care?

The Condesce only laughs as you sigh, putting that anger away. “Getting feisty, are we?”  She leans in closer to you and growls lowly, “there are literally _billions of demons in Derse_.  I’d like to see you try to keep track of them all.”

Point of the conversation?  The Condesce doesn’t know shit about the agents, and she doesn’t seem to care about it either.  The agents, particularly the Midnight Crew, could be scheming something terrible right now, and she would be none the wiser.

You don’t tell anybody, but that is _exactly_ your suspicion.  Kidnapping Dave was a warning.  You know that the Midnight Crew is taunting you.  They’re showing you just how much control they have over the portals from Derse and the demons that appear in the City.

They can steal your baby brother right out from under your nose. 

You frown at the thought.  You’ll never let them do that again.  From now until you _end_ the Midnight Crew, you’ll make sure that nothing happens to Dave.

In the days that follow, you watch Dave very closely.

It breaks your heart to see him so heartbroken.  At first, when you entered your office, he would wipe away his tears.  Now he doesn’t even bother.

After a few days, you force him to shower, promising that you’ll watch very carefully over John the whole time he does.  Despite common belief, you _do_ have a pretty sweet penthouse suite on the top floor of one of the Condesce’s skyscrapers.  It’s conveniently close to Haven (the Condesce built it there on purpose.)

“No man, NO!  _I’m not leaving him!_ ” Dave exclaims as you shove him into the bathroom. 

“Calm your shit down.  John’s not going anywhere,” you agree, spinning him around to face you.  “You’re just getting a shower in.  Trust me. You need one.”

“I can’t bring him with me.  He might drown.  Be a tragedy worse than fucking Ophelia in Hamlet all up in my shit, can’t have John drowning on me or—” Dave rambles.

Swiftly, you pull him into an embrace, wrapping your arms gently but firmly around his quaking body.  You didn’t realize just how much of a mess he was, but now you can see that your brother is taking this _far_ worse than you remembered.  “Hey, chill for a second and listen to me.”

Miraculously, Dave quiets as you slowly feed him energy and your own feelings of calmness.

“John will be ok.  Trust me, I know,” you murmur to him, hearing his racing thoughts begin to slow as the strong steady force of your composed tranquility pours into him.  “Here, I’ll hold him while you shower.  I’ll make sure nothing happens, and you can have him back as soon as you’re out.  What do you say, lil’ man.  Deal?”

It takes a few moments after Dave pulls away from you, but eventually he bobs his head down once in agreement.  Slowly, hesitantly, he holds up his hands, uncurling his fingers to reveal a small blue blanket Kanaya made him earlier in the week.  Sleeping within is his fairy boyfriend John.

You carefully take the fairy into your own hands, resisting the urge to smile as he murmurs something unintelligible in his sleep.  Glancing up, you notice that Dave isn’t moving.  “You can go shower now. Don’t need my permission.”

“Can you,” he begins, then hesitates.  Dave looks away, then glances back into your eyes again and asks, “can you stay in here with me?”

You throw him a lopsided grin.  “Like you’re fuckin’ three?  Yeah, sure.  Whatever it takes to get you to bathe.”

Dave smiles, and you feel the immediate relief that washes over him.  Relief washes over you too when the kid finally steps into your shower.  About. Fucking. Time.

The water starts, and you lean back against the sink, bowing your head down and sighing.  You never thought you’d have to fight Dave this much to shower again.

After a few minutes, Dave’s voice drifts to you from behind the frosted glass of your shower doors.  “Bro?”

“Still here,” you reassure him.

“How is John?” he asks.

“Still asleep,” you answer.

A few seconds pass by, with nothing but the sound of the falling water echoing off the tiles in your gigantic bathroom.  Then, Dave hesitantly says, “have you—have you ever loved someone so much it hurt?”

You smile sadly.  “Yeah.  Yeah I have.”

“You have?” Dave asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Fuck you,” you mutter.

This gets a small laugh out of your brother.  A few more seconds pass.  You hear the sound of your shampoo cap being popped open and then the sound of the bottle being placed back into its proper place.  “It’s not Betty, is it?” he asks.

“No,” you answer quickly.

“Thank fucking god,” he sighs.  The sound of the dripping water changes as he leans back into the water, rinsing his hair.  “You still with her?  The one you love?”

“It’s—complicated,” you murmur.

Dave tisks at you.  “Disappointing status, Bro.”

“It’s a him,” you supply, surprising yourself with the info you’re so readily spilling to Dave.

“It is?” he asks, taking sudden interest. “What happened?”

“Story for another time, lil’ man,” you say softly.

Dave doesn’t seem surprised by your answer.  He lets the conversation rest for a while, busying himself with some of your other hair products.  Idly, you wonder if he even knows what half of them are. 

When he speaks again, his voice is quiet and it cracks a little bit.  He’s been crying again.  “Have you ever worried—that you might never see him again?”

It hits you like the burning heat of the desert at midday.  You feel your throat tighten a bit, and you look down at the fairy in your hands.  “ _John. He’s talking about John.  He doesn’t even know about Jake.  This is John he’s talking about_ ,” you think to yourself.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly and lamely. 

You’re sure that with Dave’s enhanced hearing he caught your answer.  And your brother isn’t an idiot either.  He probably caught your tone.  He has to know you won’t say any more about it.

He does.  Dave doesn’t ask you any more questions as he finishes showering.  When he’s done, you give him one of your Rainbow Dash shirts to wear and the smallest pair of sweat pants you own.  They both hang really loosely off Dave, and you make a mental note to beef the kid up later.

You bring him back to Haven where you can keep an eye on him.  Dave proceeds to wallow in misery for the rest of the day. 

By the time night falls, your little bro has finally fallen asleep. 

You're actually in your office when it happens.  Dirk and Jake walk into your office looking for you, but by opening the door they wake them up.  Both of them.

“Go the fuck away,” Dave moans, rolling on your couch to a position that doesn’t look comfortable at all.

“Mmm,” John murmurs, his voice quiet and barely audible.  There’s the faint sound of fabric rustling as he struggles to extricate himself from Kanaya’s blue blanket.  “—Dave?”

There’s a note of desperation in Dave’s voice as he sits up suddenly, holding John up carefully in front of his face.  “John? Holy fucking shit please tell me you’re really awake and this isn’t just some douchery that my mind is pulling on me while I’m asleep. I’ll be so pissed if this is like Inception. Don’t need Joseph Gordon-Levitt all up in my business telling me what to think.”

John laughs, and murmurs hoarsely, “yes Dave.  This is all a dream.  Soon Nic Cage is going to bust through the wall riding a motorcycle and take us to Neverland.”

“That reference is lame.  The lamest of lames.  And it makes no sense.  No way my brain would have come up with that,” Dave is quick to say, pulling John close to his chest. “I’m so fucking happy you’re back.”

John laughs again, hugging him back tightly. “Miss me?”

“You have no fuckin’ idea.”

Warmth fills your heart as you see the happiness the two of them share.  It’s so clear that they’re in love, and you hope that love will last forever, as your mother wished it would. 

As your gaze shifts to Dirk and Jake, the happiness, for once, remains in your heart.  It won’t be long now.  Soon, you will catch up to that point where you left for the past.  Soon, Jake will reappear in your time.

Not just any Jake. The Jake that loves you.  _Your Jake_.

You can’t wait for that day to come.  The day that you will have your own happy reunion.  You’ve waited a thousand years for it.  You’ll wait a little bit longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You people are awesome. =)


	28. The Last Three Months

**Bro == > Film Dirk and Jake making out** 

Oh, you will.  The cameras are set up and ready to go. But first, Dirk and Jake have to get to that point.

You’ll wait. You’re a patient guy.

In the meantime, you kindly inform Dave that he can’t continue living in your office at Haven.  “You’ve gotta pick somewhere to go, lil’ man,” you tell him, watching as he makes faces at the giant cup of sea-demon blood you’ve given him.

“Dude, are you kicking me out?  Harsh,” Dave says between tentative sips.

John sighs from his perch in Dave’s hair.  “Yeah, I agree with him.  We need a place with an actual shower.  Do you know how messy your hair is getting?”

“You’re the one who chose to sit up there,” your little bro says, spreading his hands.  “Bask. Bask in it.  The alluring musk of my unwashed hair.”

“Eww, gross,” John says, wrinkling his nose and flittering down to land on Dave’s knee instead.

“Me or Dirk,” you offer him simply.  “Pick one of our places and move your shit there.”

Dave chooses Dirk.  Within the night, he’s moved his essentials there and is no longer haunting your office couch.

Dave’s choice stings just a little bit.  You know that in the end he’s really choosing you either way.  And you really don’t miss him weeping and snotting all over your couch.

With Dave safely in Dirk’s care, you have a little bit of time before anything is really in motion. The day is approaching soon that you’ll have to say goodbye to Dirk.

You start recording videos for Dirk in the future-past-whatever-time-travel-sucks.  The first time you do it, you feel really weird.  It’s an odd set-up.  Your shades (AKA Hal) are sitting on your desk recording you.  Directly behind them, you have your computer set up with the video footage Hal recorded a thousand years ago, including Dirk’s (your own) stream-of-conscious thoughts written at the bottom in black like movie subtitles.

The set-up lets you respond to the things Dirk is thinking at the appropriate time in your video recording.  It’ll let you “talk” to him as if you’re actually there.

The first time you set everything up, you feel so ridiculous that you are tempted to put it all away.  You actually reach for your shades, ready to do just that, but you remember what it was like to receive these messages from Bro.  You remember just how much you missed the normalcy of your life.  You remember how much you missed Bro.

How much you _still_ miss him.

So with a sigh, you put the shades back on the table and attempt your first recording. Hal assures you that he will edit your footage and make sure that your videos are given to Dirk at the correct times in his life.

The first recording you make for him is actually a lot easier than you thought it would be.  Dirk won’t even see you.  This message is for Dirk when he is first taken away from you and thrown into that cell with Jake.  Dirk’s passed out, and you’ve got to wake him up.

“Hey lil’ man, you can’t go giving up yet,” you tell your shades.

In the computer screen in front of you, Hal displays Dirk’s subconscious thoughts.  “ _I’m not giving up.  I’m just pleasantly unconscious._ ”

“What about Jake?  You’ve got to help him right?” you persist.

This time, you see a small flicker on the screen, as if Dirk made a small movement.  He thinks, “ _Jake!  Yes, I’ve got to help him.  He was hurting. Someone captured him_.”

You pester him again.  “How are you gonna help him if you can’t help yourself first?”

Dirk actually moans a bit and thinks, “ _I… don’t know.  How am I going to do anything?_ ”

Ok. That’s enough. You’re sick of his wimpy whiney display and want him up NOW.

“Get up, lil’ man,” you say, your voice raising into an uncharacteristic shout.  “GET UP!!!”

You hear Dirk gasp and see his vision shake as he startles awake.

And cut.  You pick up your shades and place them back on your face.  “How was that?” you ask, knowing that Hal can hear you through your link.

“ _The kid woke up, didn’t he?_ ” Hal responds through text on your shades.  “ _Look, I’ve got a date with danger, but look me up next time you want to do this again._ ”

You do.  Over the course of the next few days, you record a few more videos for Dirk.  You select points in his life when he’s feeling particularly down, or when he needs a reality check.  You’re feeling pretty good about your progress, and you’ve got a bit of time to spare.

So you decide to make a trip that is long overdue.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Make a trip that is long overdue** 

“Bro! To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

“Just felt like talking again,” you pause awkwardly. “—Dad.”

You’ve met with John’s father a few times over the centuries to shoot the shit and discuss John’s progress.  Never once has he told you his actual name.  At first, it was a joke because you told him your name was “Bro.” By now, he has seen that everyone actually _does_ call you Bro and that you weren’t just giving him a line like some punk kid with an attitude.  But that still hasn’t changed his mind about you calling him “Dad.”

Admittedly, it’s a little awkward for you.  Calling someone who isn’t your father and never will be your “Dad” feels weirder than weird, and it always makes you feel a little uneasy to do it.  You would swear that’s why the fairy king insists that you call him that.  Full of pranks, full of jokes.  It’s no surprise where John gets it from.

You’ve agreed to meet the fairy king just outside the fairy forest, but he quickly ushers you inside and to his castle.  It tingles a little bit when you pass through the curtain from the woods into the sanctified land of the fairies, but it doesn’t hurt.  You aren’t sure whether that’s a remnant of Feferi’s magic on you or whether it’s John’s dad’s. 

He shrinks you down to fairy size, which also tingles a bit, and insists that you join him for tea and cakes.  The tea you find to be an exotic blend of fragrant fruits and flower petals that you have never tasted before.  The cake is far too sweet, but you force it down anyway.  After all, the fairy king made it himself.  Can’t say no to that.

“So how is John doing?  Is he proving himself useful?” Dad asks, taking a neat bite of his cake with a fork.

“John has proven his worth several times already,” you answer easily.  “He and Dave are one of my best teams.”

“He and Dave,” the fairy king repeats carefully.  You catch his inclination immediately.  His body language is also extremely obvious, as he tenses up.  John’s dad places his cake on the table after taking an unusually long time to swallow the bite in his mouth.  “The way John talks about Dave, it makes me wonder—”

You decide not to interrupt.  Nor do you pry into his thoughts.  You’ll let the fairy king broach this delicate subject on his own terms.

“Are they—together?” he asks outright.

Well that’s one way. 

“They are,” you answer simply, looking carefully into his eyes, watching for any sign of emotion.

There’s a flicker of what appears to be pain across his expression after he hears your words. “John is a good boy,” he says.

“So is Dave,” you interject quickly.

His expression hardens, and his eyebrows furrow into a look of dismay.  Neither of you say anything for a while. 

You regard him with the same calm composure that you always have.  Slowly, you sip your tea.

“He’s—like you, isn’t he?” the king of the fairies looks at you uncertainly, still clearly apprehensive about the topic.  “He’s an incubus?”

You know where he’s going with that line of thought. “Yes, but he would never hurt John—” you linger on that a moment, remembering what happened not long ago.  “—he would sooner die himself.”

“You say that, but I heard that my boy was hurt badly, recently.  I heard that Dave was the reason.” John’s dad pauses for a moment, and his eyes harden on you, focusing on what he can see of your face.  “Tell me, Bro.  Is that true?”

You regard him for a few moments.  Then, calmly, you take off your shades so that he can look into your eyes and see that everything you say is genuine. You sit back a bit and say, “a little over a week ago, Dave was captured and held prisoner for several days in Derse.  As you may know, time passes differently there, and by the time we rescued him, he had starved for quite some time.  He _did_ hurt John.  So badly that he fell into a deep sleep for several days.”

The king of the fairies’ expression shifts quickly to one of anger.  “I can’t believe–”

“Dave was devastated when he found out what he’d done,” You cut him off quickly. “He watched over John tirelessly for several days.  I had to literally drag him to make him shower.  John rarely left his hands.”

John’s father looks like he wants to say more, but you don’t let him.  Instead you lean forward and say, “trust me.  Dave loves your son.  He never meant to hurt him, quite the opposite.  Dave would do anything for John."

More time passes.  Another tense minute or two marches on forever as John’s father fully absorbs everything you’ve told him.  Finally, he sighs and says, “I’ve heard—you raised him, correct?”

“I did,” you agree.

John’s dad appears to wrestle with the subject a bit more, his hands tensing and fisting into the ends of his flowing fairy garment a couple of times.  Eventually, he says, “you’re a good person, Bro.  I’ve always said that.  I have trusted you with my son these past two centuries.  I think—I think I can trust the boy you raised too.”

“You can,” you agree softly.  “Dave can be a little shit sometimes, but he has a good heart.”

Finally, John’s dad smiles at you.  “I believe you.”

The rest of your visit is uneventful. You spend most of your time talking about the events happening in the world, and you endure a few of the fairy king’s “dad jokes.”  Sometime during your conversation, John’s father does tell you about a troublesome banshee that has been haunting their lake.  You agree to send your brothers to take care of the Banshee and also so that he can meet Dave. He will see for himself that what you have told him is true.

At least, that is your full intention. But that changes when your brothers show up for work that evening.

One look at Dirk’s thin frame, the way he’s precariously touching the wall for balance, and the small tremors that he’s trying his best to hide is all you need.  You’ve seen this before.  It happened back when he was dating Caliborn.

Dirk is starving himself.

Wordlessly, you pull him into your office, shutting the door on Dave, Jake, and John.  You know that the others can hear you outside, and you don’t care.  That’s actually part of the plan. 

You turn on him sharply and say, “dude, not cool.”

“What?” he asks, trying to sound all cool and nonchalant about it.  But you see the way he hovers by your desk, ready to catch himself if he topples over.

“Cut the shit,” you growl at him.  Before he can react, you grasp the back of his hair, pulling his head back, and you tip down his shades.

Dirk’s normally vibrant orange eyes are red.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, letting him go.  “How long ago did you last feed?”

“Jake made pancakes this morning,” he responds snottily.

Fucking damn it.  You really hate what a cocky asshole you are sometimes.  “That is _not_ what I fucking meant, and _you know it._   Answer the question.”

Dirk doesn’t answer you.  You can sense his hesitancy, his fear, and his anger with the situation and at himself. 

You move closer into his personal space and lower your voice.  You’re pissed at him, and you want him to know. “ _How long ago?_ ”

Finally, he answers.  “Not really sure.  Maybe a couple weeks ago?”

“Oh fuck no,” you growl pacing away from him. “I am _not_ dealing with this whiny-ass emo shit.”

You remove your cap long enough to rake not one but _both_ of your hands through your hair.  Ugh.  Why were you like this? Why didn’t you just _talk to Jake about it_ earlier?  It’s so _fucking obvious_ that Jake _is absolutely in love with Dirk_ how can the little shit not see that?  How can he _not know_ that Jake would do abso-fucking-loutely _anything_ for him?  That he _loves him to pieces_?

You’re having a tiny mini mental breakdown.  It’s all Jake’s fault.  You’ll blame him later.  But right now, there is a very misguided younger brother standing in front of you that you have to put back on track.  Sighing to yourself, you glare at Dirk and point a meaningful finger at him. “I’m only gonna say this once, so you’d better listen to me. You know what happens if you don’t eat. You die. And you might kill other people close to you in the process.”

Dirk doesn’t say anything.  He knows that you’re pissed at him. At least, that’s what he thinks you are.  He doesn’t know you’re really worked up over Jake. But you know what? That doesn’t matter, because you _are_ pissed at him.  And he needs to know that what he’s doing is the opposite of anything good. 

You step even closer to him, leaning in until you can feel his unease palpable in the air.  “I know you just started dating Jake, and I’m happy for you.  I want you and Dave to both have the happiness I never did.  But don’t let it mess with your head. Even Dave knows that he needs to eat. He and John have talked about it.”

“They have?” he asks, a little surprised.

“Yes, they have,” you snarl back, exasperated with this game.  “And you and Jake had better have that conversation pronto. In fact—”

You let the sentence die on your tongue as you stride purposefully to your office door and throw it open.  You aren’t surprised to find Dave, John, and Jake all piled atop each other near the ground, their ears listening under the door.  Ignoring their ridiculous position, you grab Jake by his collar and pull him into your office.  Digging into your pocket, you pull out the day’s assignments, handing them to Dave.  “It’s all you tonight lil’ man. Dirk’s out of commission.  Go.”

Dave doesn’t argue.  He can probably tell that you’re in no mood for his shit, and he knows better than that.  Wordlessly, he raises his eyebrows above his shades, takes the paper, and leaves with John.

You turn your attention back to Dirk and Jake.  “I’m leaving now.  Gonna take care of some business. You two. Figure your shit out. Now.”

After one last meaningful glance, you close the door on them.

And then, you retreat up the fire escape to the rooftop, where you tune your shades into the video cameras you have tactfully hidden around your office.

Hal’s voice comes up in your mind, “I don’t know if I’m doing you a favor, letting you see this.”

“I don’t know either,” you murmur.

Gracefully, you fall down onto your back on the gravel rooftop, stare up at the sky, and watch the scene unfold.

As your luck would have it, you haven’t missed a thing.  Jake and Dirk are standing in your office, staring at each other awkwardly.  With just a bit of concentration, you can also pick up their thoughts, letting them pleasantly drift around in your head along with the video feed like a giant gelatinous bowl of tapioca pudding.

Just when Dirk begins to think it couldn’t get more awkward, Jake speaks up.  “So umm, I couldn’t hear everything through the door, but Bro wants us to talk?”  He pauses.  A decidedly awkward pause.  “—about sex?”

You grin to yourself. You are _so_ glad you forced Dirk to do this in your office.

Dirk sighs and says, “yeah. Yeah he does.  You know what I am. I don’t need to remind you.”

“You’re a—a succubus,” Jake stammers.  Oh Jake.  Really?  After all this time, you still haven’t gotten that right?

Dirk winces and corrects him, “I’d prefer incubus, but yeah. You’ve got the idea.”

Another awkward pause fills the air, and it becomes clear that Jake doesn’t know what Dirk wants from him.  Dirk begins to panic.  You feel it rising within him, as his thoughts race from Jake’s eyes to hating you to thinking about the horrors of his other failed relationships.

Dirk starts to fully and completely hate you.  “ _Doesn’t he realize I could lose the only real boyfriend I’ve ever had over this?_ ” Dirk thinks miserably.

He could, if it wasn’t 100% clear that Jake is in love with him.  Your little bro just needs a little push to see that.

“Jake, you remember what I eat, right?  You know, besides your breakfasts?” Dirk attempts to ask.

“I—recall, yes,” Jake murmurs.  You can feel his embarrassment all the way up on top of the roof.  Jake is so fucking adorable.  You love him so much.

“I told you from day one that I’d never make you do something you don’t want to do. Guess I already broke that, but I’m keeping my word from here out.  Jake English, I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. I’ll never make you do something that you don’t want to do,” Dirk pauses, and you feel the agony within him as he chokes out the last few words almost inaudibly.  “But I have to eat.  I’ll die soon if I don’t.”

“ _Dirk! Blazes, why did you hide this from me?  I never wanted you to be hurt, I—_ ”Jake thinks, the words beginning to form on his tongue. 

But before he can say them, Dirk continues, “I’ll wait for you as long as it takes until you’re ready.  After that, I’ll never betray you.”

And then Dirk realizes it.

Dirk realizes that he will die for Jake English.

Immediately, his thoughts swirl in confusion, wondering how he could have possibly fallen this hard for him and when it happened.  A part of him worries that you would strife the shit out of him if you knew.

Then he starts to wonder if you do know.  If you figured it out already.  If you forced him to have this painfully awkward conversation because you knew.

Bingo.

In truth, it couldn’t make you more pleased.  It’s all going perfectly according to plan.  You do feel lingering sadness pitting in the bottom of your chest.  You miss Jake so much, and it hurts to have him so close to you.  Close, but untouchable.

_This_ Jake can never be yours.  _This_ Jake belongs to Dirk.

But the Jake that will return to this time in just a short few weeks will be yours.  He might be furious at you for throwing him through a time portal, but it will be as if nothing happened. The past thousand years will have passed by for him in the blink of an eye.

Dirk’s words bring you back to the present.  “But until then, I hope you don’t mind if I find sustenance elsewhere. I think you know what that means.”

“Strider, mate, I-I never realized you were,” Jake stammers, then throws his arms around Dirk.  He presses their bodies together, nuzzling into his cheek and hugging the shit out of your little brother.  Softly, he murmurs, “you never needed to wait for me. I never expected that. You are completely mind boggling, Dirk!”

Dirk begins to doubt himself. But before he can sink too deeply into despair, Jake laughs softly and asks, “why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Huh?” Dirk asks.

The look Jake gives him is downright mischievous and dirty.  He exhales a breathy laugh and says, “Dirk, I’m no stranger to sex.”

You couldn’t pay to have acting this good.  You swallow hard, realizing that these aren’t actors in some shitty porno that you’re filming.  This is Jake, the man you love more than life itself, and your little brother Dirk, the man who will become _you_ in less than a year.

Slowly, a shy but happy smile spreads across Dirk’s lips. “About fucking time.”

Their lips come together, and the happiness you feel them sharing warms your own heart.  Their kiss is beautiful, sweet, and full of the passionate love that will make Dirk wait 1000 years for its return.

_“Dirk—_ ” Jake thinks during their kiss, unable to voice that thought.

With his thoughts in your mind, and his face in your shades, it’s like he’s talking to you.  You exhale a small shaky breath.  “Jake—” you murmur back.

They deepen their kiss, their arms entwining around each other’s bodies in an embrace of love.

“ _Dirk—ohh—_ ” Jake’s pleasured thoughts again drift into your mind, and you swear he’s speaking directly to your heart.

You are so turned on right now.  But you don’t dare touch yourself. 

Jake is teasing your soul with every delicious move of his body.  You’re in love with the sway of his hips and those feather-light caresses over Dirk’s skin.  Jake’s lust-filled thoughts make you want to scream with desire.

All too soon, Dirk breaks their kiss.  Jake looks up in confusion and asks, “I thought you wanted to—”

“More than anything, but not here,” Dirk says, glancing around suspiciously.  “Bro’s fond of video cameras.  Everywhere.”

Fucking kid.  He knows way too many of your secrets.

Jake flushes deeply in embarrassment.  “O-oh.  Is that so?  Well then, yes, you’re quite right!  We should relocate elsewhere,” he stammers.

Jake wonders, idly, if you were watching their kiss.  _He kind of hopes that you were._

_He **what???**_

But before you can probe into his mind any further, Dirk takes him by the hand and pulls him away.  Seconds later, you hear the sound of Dirk’s Jeep peeling down the road.

Jake loves you.  He loves you.  But he loves Dirk.  And Dirk is you, so he loves you.  But somehow you’re _sure_ that he loves _you_ and not just the Dirk that is you.  And you don’t know what that means.  What could it possibly mean?

You are so confused, and heartbroken, and in love, and happy, and terrified.

Fucking. Time. Travel.

A single tear rolls down your left cheek, and you’re not sure if it’s one of extreme happiness or sadness.

You have a feeling it’s both.

Once you’re certain that they’re out of hearing range, you scream at the sky.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Bother the fuck out of Dirk** 

Oh, you remember exactly what happens the following morning.  You remember pulling Jake to you, snuggling in the warmth of his body, suggesting that he be your breakfast—and then hearing Bro’s phonecall.

And now it’s you on the other end of the line.  You smirk as Dirk grows at you, “what do you want?”

You can’t keep the grin off your face as you ask, “interrupting something?”

“Not anymore,” Dirk sighs.

“You figure your shit out last night?” you ask, even though you know the answer to that already.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Good. Then I need you to come in early today,” you continue without missing a beat.

“Dude, it’s barely noon,” he complains.

“And I give so many shits about that,” you say with mock sympathy. “Get Dave up too. Be here in an hour.”

Without waiting for his response, you hang up.

An hour later, a frustrated looking Dirk, sexy looking Jake, sleepy looking Dave, and sick looking John arrive at your office.  You send them off to the fairy forest, knowing precisely what will go down there.

They will defeat the banshee.  Dirk will prove that he would die for Jake by jumping in front of the creature in a dramatic act of self-sacrifice and love.  Jake will fall for him even harder.

Dave will meet John’s father and be intimidated as fuck by the king of the fairies.  It will be poetic justice. 

Jake will be adorable eating dogwood pears.  Fucking damn it, you love that man so much.

John’s father will come to terms with John’s love for Dave, and he will give both his son and your brother an uplifting speech about love.  And then, your youngest bro and his fairy boyfriend will finally have a chance to show each other their love for the first time. 

Dave will be sore in the morning.

Dirk will realize that Jake is far older than he seems.  He’ll feel Jake’s love for him, and the following morning the two of them will enjoy expressing their love during a rather long bath together.  So will a dozen or so voyeur fairies.

When they get back, you know that everything went down just like you remember.  You gaze at your brothers and their boyfriends for a moment, quietly assessing them.

Wordlessly, you fistbump both your brothers.

You can hear the confusion in their thoughts, wondering why you spared them the embarrassing and awkward sex talk that you totally could have given them for ultra ironies.  Oh, you could have.  It would have been glorious.

But you can’t bring yourself to do it.  Not when Jake is looking at you like that.

There’s a pity in Jake’s eyes when he looks at you, and you don’t dare read his thoughts.  You know what he’s probably thinking anyway.  That you’re some sad, miserable, pathetic, lonely guy.

And in a way, he’s right.  You won’t be yourself again until he’s yours again.

Time. All in time.

For a week, you send your brothers away on pretty easy missions with simple enough targets.  Unknown to them, you continue to take on the hardest monsters.  You fight them with the pent up frustration that you have harbored for a thousand years, and you work yourself to exhaustion.

More than once, the Condesce finds you in some deserted wasteland.

On one such occasion, you are lying flat on your back in the middle of an arid desert.  You’ve tracked down a band of feral werewolves after they burnt several towns to the ground, and you put them out of their misery.

It wasn’t even _that_ difficult of a fight.  But you’re finding that as the day approaches, that particular April 5 th, it’s harder for you to take all of this.  There is no such thing as living, you’ve decided, there is only existing and waiting for the day.

A shadow falls over your face, and when you look up, you see the Condesce looking down at you.  Despite being completely overdressed for the weather (she’s still wearing a business suit) she tisks at you.  “This is no way to live.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree.

She gazes down at you and continues, “I’ve never seen an incubus so determined to be miserable.”

“And now you have,” you sigh.

“Derse.  Now,” she says, snapping her fingers.

“Wha—?” is all you manage to get out before a giant void-like portal opens below you, sucking you down into its dark depths.

You land on the Condesce’s bed in Derse.  She follows closely behind you.

“If you’re gonna run yourself ragged, you need to replenish your energy,” she explains.  “Can’t have you dying on me, Bro.”

You don’t fight as she descends.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Send Dirk into a fight he can’t win** 

In the following days, you visit the Condesce far more often than usual.  Sometimes it’s by your own volition.  Sometimes she finds you.

Dirk begins to notice that you’re disheveled, but you’re not about to tell him that you’re using the Condesce to ignore the pain of not being with Jake even though he’s _right there_ like literally _right fucking there_ and _fuck_. 

No.  Shit.  You can’t do this.

Ok, calm your shit down.

Yes you can.

You’re the cool older brother.  You’re in charge around here.  Jake and his cute ass are _not_ going to distract you from that.

Without looking up from the papers on your desk, you gesture toward a couple large mega gulp cups full of blood.  “Dirk.  Dave,” you say in an inviting and commanding way.

Dirk, for once, reaches for the cup a bit more eagerly than usual.  To the casual observer, his hands still linger back, his pace is still calm and slow.  But you know your brother.  You’ve fed him for centuries, and you see the tiny extra spring in his step.  You quirk an eyebrow at him and poke into his thoughts.

And you’re suddenly assaulted by his ravenous hunger.  Ugh.  You frown.  You’d forgotten just what it was like to starve yourself like that.

Dave interrupts your thoughts with his usual question, “so do I get to go back to the fairy forest tonight?”

You flick your gaze to him and stifle a snicker.  “Can’t get a big enough dose of holy, can you lil’ man?”  Double innuendo.  Zing.

“That’s not why I want to go back,” Dave pouts.

It’s totally why he wants to go back.

“Trust me, I know.  Much as I’d love to give you and John another opportunity to fuck, you’re needed somewhere else tonight,” you inform him, then hold out an assignment paper in his direction.

Instantly, John makes a tiny squeak of embarrassment, and his face reddens in a way that you must admit is pretty cute.  You can see why your little bro likes this kid.

Dave tries his best to seem like he isn’t disappointed, but you know he is.  You also know he’ll start taking Dirk’s rocketboard and visiting the fairy forest anytime he pleases soon, so you really don’t feel bad for him.  Instead of pouting openly, he instead sighs and takes the assignment.  After quickly reading it, he turns to Dirk and begins to say, “We’re at—”

You cut him off before he can continue.  Lazily, you gesture to the four of them. “ _You_ aren’t anywhere.  Tonight you and John are on your own. Dirk and Jake have something else they need to do.”

Dirk’s reluctance tugs at you instantly, and you hear him think, “ _Great, here it comes.  Time to get locked in Bro’s office with Jake to sort out my problems._ ”

“You wish,” you respond, then hand him another paper with a different assignment on it.  “Dirk, I’m sending you there because you’re our best. Next to me, naturally. Don’t fuck this up, but also don’t give up.  You’ve got this.”

Instantly, Dave and Dirk are both wary of your ominous pep-talk.  They know you far too well.

Dirk reads the assignment and notices that it’s just an address.  “Ok? What’s the big deal?” he asks.

“The deal is there’s a girl having nightmares of a very real monster every night,” you murmur.  As you sink into your thoughts you simultaneously sink back into your office chair.  You wish that you didn’t have to send Dirk here.  You really do.  “But it isn’t just any monster.  It’s the worst kind.”

Your brothers fall deeper into their fearfully silent suspicion.  They know you.  They know that this isn’t good.  You hear in their thoughts that the words “worst kind” are to be feared.

“You’re right,” you respond to them.  “Dirk, have you heard of the Midnight Crew?”

“No,” he answers unsurprisingly.  Of course he hasn’t heard of them.  You never told him about them.

“The Midnight Crew?” John pipes up, the redness in his face finally dissipating.  “Aren’t they those guys that dress all in black?  I think dad mentioned them once.”

“He probably did.  They’re the most notorious agents of Derse, so I wouldn’t be surprise if word of them reached the fairy land,” you agree.  You wonder just how much “Dad” has had to deal with the Midnight Crew.  You hope, for his sake, that it isn’t much.

“Aww man, Dirk gets all the fun assignments,” Dave moans.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what they can do,” you snap back at him quickly.  “Now finish your blood, both of you.  That harpy blood wasn’t easy to come by.  And Dave, evening church-goers are people too. They deserve our protection as much as the next person. You know demons target them even more sometimes.  You’ll need John’s help again.”

“Aww fuck no,” Dave continues to whine.

“Oh fuck yes,” you mimic him in the same petulant tone, waving him out the door. “You’d better go.  Mass will be over soon.”

Dave whines some more but eventually leaves.

Finally, you’re able to turn your attention to Dirk.  You know what you’ve sent him up against, and you know it isn’t fair.

The kid can’t win this one. You know he can’t.  Even if he wasn’t half-starved, he’s just not good enough yet.  And for whatever reason, even though Jake _can_ win, he _won’t_. 

This little mystery perplexed you for a little while.  You’ve seen Jake take out the Midnight Crew in the past.  He’s killed Spades Slick before.  For quite some time, you didn’t understand why he didn’t do the same this evening.  But looking outside, at the full moon hanging in the sky, you have your answer. 

Lord English is stronger tonight.  His power, for reasons you suppose you will never know, rises with the full moon.  It takes more of Jake’s energy to suppress him on these nights.

A small curious part of you wonders just how powerful Jake would be if he _didn’t_ have to contain Lord English within his soul. 

Questions for later.  You’ll ask Jake about it after you fix all this shit and set the timeline straight.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” Dirk murmurs, a bit of the accent he tries so hard to hide bleeding back into his voice.  He’s seriously weirded out by your staring.

“Tonight’s not gonna be easy,” you say, your voice sounding much more calm and smooth than you think it has any right to.  You take a moment to remove your cap, rake your fingers through your hair, and replace it.  “But you’ll do the right thing.  I know you will.”

“Freakin’ me out here a little, Bro,” Dirk murmurs carefully. “Did you learn to see the future too or something?”

If Dirk only knew.

You chuckle lightly, unable to resist the horrible ACTUAL irony in that statement.  If Dirk knew you were him in the future, what would he think?  Would he be laughing along with you too?  Or would he just be petrified shitless by what will happen this evening?

“Maybe a little,” you finally murmur. “But the agents of the Midnight Crew are hard to forget.  I’ve run across them before and it was less than pleasant.”

Your little story is true enough, and Dirk buys it.

“Be on your guard tonight.  Even more than usual,” you tell him seriously.  For a second, your gaze flickers over to Jake before coming back to rest on your little bro.  “All night.”

Before Dirk or Jake can say any more, you finally rise from your seat and usher them out the door.

You sink down into your couch and pull your cap over your face. 

You’re a terrible brother.  The worst kind. How could you do that to Dirk?  How could you let him go into a fight that he _cannot win_?

And Jake.  Jake could die tonight too, freeing Lord English on the universe again.

But because they will fight to within an inch of their lives, Roxy will come to rescue them.  The angel will smack the crap out of Spades Slick and send him back to Derse where he belongs.

Dirk will finally have closure over her death.

But the night won’t end there.  You told Dirk to be on his guard all night for a reason.

Dirk is already starving.  And after the fight, Dirk will be even weaker.  He will _beg_ Jake to have sex with him.  He’ll _plead_ for it because he’ll _need it_.

And even though Jake will know that there could be dire consequences, he will concede.  Even though the full moon could bring Lord English to the surface, his love for Dirk will overcome his inhibitions.

Lord English will rise to the surface, and Dirk will have his first experience pushing that evil soul back down.  The next morning, he will tell Jake about it, and make the love of his life cry.

Dirk will regret it, as you have regretted it, for the rest of his life.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Record some shit for Dirk** 

Yep, you’re getting better at that.  With Hal’s help, you record and re-record message after message.  You sprinkle in little happy birthdays, pep talks, and stern brotherly lectures.  You wish that you could actually be there for Dirk when he’s going through all of this, but you know that you can’t.  This is better than nothing.

You’re recording one such video when you murmur to Hal, “I think Dirk’s coming. We’ll have to redo this one.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave your fucking door open and this wouldn’t be a problem,” Hal suggests.

As Dirk rounds the corner, you say, “yep, thought so. Gotta go.”

Dirk eyes you suspiciously as you snap your laptop shut.  “Bro, what were you—”

“You’ll see later,” you assure him, not letting him finish that question, because you weren’t going to answer it anyway.  You take a moment to glance up and down at both Dirk and  Jake.

Dirk is thinner than you would like, but he’s far better off than yesterday.  Jake is still flushed with embarrassment, and he wears the guilt in his expression as plainly as if he were waving a bright flag in the air.  You wish that you could console him somehow, but that’s not your job right now.

Right now, you have to be Bro.  “You’re both in one piece.  Good.  You had a visitor last night?” you ask them.

“Yeah,” Dirk murmurs, his voice trailing off.  He goes on to think about Roxy and about how she fought for her own revolutionary ideals.  About how, as an angel, she is exactly where she was always meant to be.

You smile at him and ruffle his hair, snickering and jumping back when Dirk slashes his katana at you.  “Glad to see you figured it out.”

Dirk doesn’t attack you with his blade again, but he suddenly begins to think about the parallels between you and John’s dad.

“Oh no,” you shake your head and waggle a finger at him. “Don’t you dare lump me in with _him_.”

Honestly you could think of worse people to be lumped with, but Dirk doesn’t need to know that.  You hand him his assignment and shove him out the door.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Survive another 3 months without Jake** 

You wait 3 excruciatingly long months, and finally, the dreaded day that you’ve been anticipating for a thousand years arrives.  April 5. 

You aren’t sure how you do it, but somehow you do.

Ok, you know exactly how you do it.  You overwork yourself, throwing everything into the battle against the demons of Derse.  It leaves Dave and Dirk with very simple monsters to face.  And between the two of them, you give the more challenging ones to Dave.  The kid will have to take his brother’s place very soon, and you have to see if he’s capable.

Dave does not disappoint you.  He complains more, but he’s just as sharp as he always was.  And now that he’s visiting the fairy forest with John regularly, he’s happier than he’s ever been.  Having a chance to fuck your boyfriend after two centuries of sexual frustration will do that.

Dirk is also happier than he’s ever been before.  His relationship with Jake blooms into the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.  Jake becomes his entire world.  He loves him absolutely and completely, with his entire heart.

And you know Jake feels the same way.  Even if you couldn’t read it in his thoughts, you would know in how much stronger Dirk is becoming.  Jake has been feeding him every day, often multiple times, and Dirk’s strength has grown several-fold in just these short three months.

Meanwhile, you have finished your recordings, and with Hal’s help, you’ve located every place that Dirk’s AR saved his backup programs.  He’s programmed you a sweet file to knock them all out at the same time for just a few minutes.  Just long enough for you to download a copy of your Hal into Dirk’s shades.

Hal assures you that the copy of himself will be happy to be just that, a copy.  And that once the thousand years are up, he’ll merge back with the original body he has now.  As Hal points out to you, time is no object to a program. 

You realize, suddenly, that there will always be a copy of Hal stuck in a time loop somewhere, always doomed to travel back into the past and bail your ass out of trouble.  You ask him, “Hal, how many lifetimes have you lived?”

“More than your little non-computerized brain can count,” he responds in text across your shades.  “And the copy of myself that you’ll put into Dirk’s shades will live a thousand years more.  It’s cool though.  I was debating between spending the centuries on the Galapagos Islands or Egypt.  This me will get to try Egypt.”

“Wait,” you pause.  “So you’re telling me you knew how to kiss and fuck _the whole time?_ ”

“You wish you knew how to fuck as good as me,” he responds.

“Then why—” you begin to ask.

“I just wanted an excuse to kiss you,” Hal responds, sending a little winkie face after his comment.

You could kick him.  Except that he’s probably halfway across the world right now.

“I am,” he agrees. “Now, I think Bro wants to tell you one more thing before you do this.”

Your shades light up, surprising you.

“Hey, man, this is it.   The final transmission.  El fin.  After this, you won’t have an older brother anymore,” Bro says.  After a pause, he murmurs, “and you’ll be down one younger brother too.”

Your later self sighs, rakes his hands through his hair in that characteristic way you find yourself doing all the time now.  His voice sounds strained as he continues, “fuck this feels so stupid.  I’m basically you, by this point.  You in a couple hours anyway.  By now, you’re almost me.  Congrats. You made it.  Big fucking whoop.”

You’re starting to wonder what is wrong with yourself in the future.  Are you going to have a mental breakdown in the span of a couple hours?

“No, I’ll be fine.  You’ll be fine,” Bro responds to your thought.  After a bit more hesitation, he finally spills it.  “It’s Dirk.  He just left.  That’s right. Today’s the last day you’ll get to see him.”

You knew this day was coming.  You’ve had it in the back of your mind since the day you took the kid in.  Someday, Dirk would leave for the past.  Someday, you wouldn’t have him as a little brother anymore.

You’ve actually counted the days for quite some time now.  You tried to make every birthday special for him.  Especially the last few years.  You’ve been busy as fuck, but you’ve given him all the time you possibly can.  And little does he know, but you’ve actually been taking care of the harder assignments too.

It’s why you don’t sleep at night.  Why you need so much energy that you have to constantly grovel at Her Imperious Condescension’s feet and be her little fucktoy.

“Hey, don’t start thinking down that road,” Bro says, snapping you out of it.  “You’ve done the best you can do, and don’t forget, Dirk is leaving tonight, but someone else is coming back.”

Instantly, your heart fills with hope. 

Jake.

After a thousand fucking years, Jake’s coming back tonight. 

_Your Jake_.  The Jake that you can actually touch.  Hug.  Love.

“Don’t get too distracted, though,” Bro says, looking at you with the utmost seriousness.  “This is still the last time you’re going to see Dirk.  After this—well you know what happens.”

Bro closes his eyes, pressing his fingertips to his eyelids for a couple seconds.  “I’m only gonna tell you this once, so listen up.”

You listen.

“The kid just left, but I already miss him.  Do me a favor.  One thing for me, and I’ll never ask anything of you again.  Heh, I mean it this time,” Bro murmurs.  When he looks at you again, you can see the remnants of tears in his eyes.  “Hug the shit out of him for me.  For you.  Cause you know what the kid’s got ahead of him.  It’s a long hard road.  And you’re never going to see him again.”

You find yourself nodding, even though you know you’re just nodding to the air.  To a computerized version of what you will become in just a few hours.  “I will.  Damn it, Bro, this sucks.  I’m gonna miss you.  Miss Dirk.”

“Heh, don’t you think I know?”  Bro cracks a smirk.  You hear a loud sound, and Bro glances behind him.  “Looks like my time’s up.  Haven’s getting attacked tonight.  Better have everyone prepared for that.”

“It’s what?” You murmur in surprise.

“You heard me,” Bro responds.  The cracking sound is louder and he winces.  “But hey I gotta go.”

Bro salutes you, then picks up his shades.  “You did good, kid.  You did good.”

And then he’s gone.

Your older brother is gone forever.  And soon, your younger brother will be too.

Worst part about time travel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several of you have asked how many chapters are left in this story. The answer is, I wish I knew! I’ve been told never to estimate that number again after telling a friend there would only be 2 chapters left. That was 10 chapters ago.
> 
> BUT! If I had to guess, probably two or three. After that, the main storyline will be over, and there will likely be some bonus epilogue chapters.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading, who has reviewed this far, and who has been so kind as to draw me things! I love your artwork to pieces! (PS: check out my tumblr if you want to see some of their amazing artwork and my own attempts at art!)


	29. The End of an Era

**Bro == > Give a rallying speech** 

In your forced chicken scratch handwriting, you copy down one final assignment for Dirk.

April 5th.  Old Plaza Mall.  Zombies.

You stare at the paper in your hands, thinking about the finality of this whole situation.  This will be the _last time_ you _ever_ get to see Dirk, the younger brother that you raised with your own hands.  Even though he’s technically _you_ , he is your brother in every way.

Dirk always believed it too.  Aside from an angstful week of his teenage life when he hoped against all odds he wasn’t related to you, he never doubted you were his older bro.  Why shouldn’t you believe it too?

If Bro’s last message to you was any indication, you’re going to miss Dirk.

You’re going to miss him a lot.

But gathering from his message, there is quite a bit of preparation you need to do before you can say goodbye to your brother.  Haven will be attacked tonight, and you need to warn your friends.

There is still a bit of time before Dirk and Jake will arrive.  It’s long enough for you to gather all of your employees into your office again.

You look at them one by one, remembering just how you met them and all the crazy times you shared.

Porrim. Kanaya.  Terezi.  Latula.  Rufioh. Tavros. Karkat.  Kankri.  Cronus.  Jane.

Even though Cronus isn’t one of your employees, you’ve known him so long that you consider him a friend too.  And really, he’s worked hard for you too, gathering information off the streets and bringing it in.  Seeing him sitting on the couch beside Kankri, you know that this is exactly where he was meant to be.

Jane happened to be in the City when you called her this evening.  All you had to tell her was that you needed her.  She was here within the hour.

For a moment, you debate leaving your shades on.  They’re your image and a part of you, but these are your dearest friends.  You want them to know that you mean what you are about to say.  So slowly, you reach up and slide the shades off your face.

“Gasp.  He does have eyes,” Hal says, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind him.  He looks a lot like you now.  His hair is the same platinum blonde color and its even styled like yours.  His skin is the same color, and he’s wearing a rather ironic My Little Pony shirt that you kind of admire, if you do say so yourself.

“Thought you were halfway across the world?” you ask, grinning at your computer counterpart.

“Maybe I lied because I didn’t want my ass kicked?” Hal suggests.

“Thought computers couldn’t lie,” you retort.

“I’m not just any computer,” he says, grinning back at you finally.  “Besides, I couldn’t miss this.”

“If you two are done with the fucking bantering, would you mind filling the rest of us in?” Karkat grumbles.

You nod, your bare eyes falling on each of your friends as you begin to talk.  “You are all my dearest friends.  I wouldn’t have called you in here tonight if you weren’t.  Because I actually give a fuck about you, I’m going to tell you what’s to come and let you decide what you want to do.”

They wait in silence for you to continue.  After a short meaningful pause, you continue, “tonight Haven will be attacked by the Midnight Crew.  I don’t know who will survive and who will die.  Those of you who have been brought back to life by Jane can’t be brought back again.  Need I remind you, the Midnight Crew is _dangerous_ , especially when they are all together.  You can be assured that they are planning something big tonight.”

You pause, letting them take in all of that info.

“Let that sink in.  You might _die_ tonight,” you say pointedly. “I won’t think any less of anyone who wants to leave.  You have all given me so much more than I ever could have asked for.  Haven has thrived all these centuries, protecting the humans and innocent demons of The City, because _you made it happen_.  You’ve always been free to do what you please, but if that wasn’t clear before, let me make it clear now.  Haven’s runtime is over.  You are all free to go.”

Again, you pause, and wait.  You aren’t certain what you are expecting.  Maybe a few of them will leave.  Maybe all of them will get up and duck out.  Maybe they’ll be angry at you for not sharing this with them sooner.

But what you get is a communal feeling of dedication.  Of bonding. Of friendship.

None of them leave.

“Really?  Not one of you fuckers is leaving?”  You ask incredulously.  “Did I mention you might die tonight?”

“Bro, we’re demons,” Porrim points out.  “Worst case scenario, we’ll be stuck in Derse for a while.”

“Party at my place if that happens!” Rufioh announces, grinning and holding up his fingers in the shape of devil horns.

There are a few cheers of agreement around the room.

“Not all of you are demons,” you say, looking meaningfully at both Jane and Hal.  “Hal, I know your program’s backed up, and I’ll build you another body if this one gets wrecked.  But Jane, nobody can bring you back.  And if you die—”

“I want to be here, Bro,” Jane says decidedly.  There is a formidable fortitude behind her calm sky blue eyes, which tells you that she isn’t planning on changing her mind.  “I stand on the side of justice and order.  I have hunted the Midnight Crew my entire life, and I will not let them get away this time.”

“You say that as if you can actually kill them. Didn’t you hear Porrim? They’ll just go back to Derse.  Unless,” Terezi says from where she is standing beside Jane. Leaning in closer, she sniffs the other girl and says, “ohhh you _do_ have a plan!”

“I do,” Jane says, regarding everyone calmly.  “Tonight the Midnight Crew will disappear for good.  For everything they have ever done.  For killing Roxy.”

Your heart wrenches a bit hearing her name again.  You watched your best friend die again not long ago, and you know that Dirk recently told Jane about the incident too.

Dirk told her about how a figure dressed all in black attacked them.  That he suspected it might be an agent from Derse, but that the agent never gave his name.  That the sadistic agent was fond of machine guns and cuesticks.

Dirk told her about how he was cut and beaten until he couldn’t move.  That Roxy gave everything she had to kill the Agent, and then everything else to heal Dirk.  That her death would have been merely heroic, but because she died to save him, a demon, that her death was also just.

The only reason Dirk won’t recognize Diamonds Droog later tonight is because he will never see him.  If he were to see the agent, you’re certain he would remember.  He might not be so distracted thinking about you.  He might remember that _this is the agent that killed Roxy_ , and he might fight.

But you suppose the end result would be the same.  There is no way Dirk and Jake can win against all four of the midnight crew.  Even Jake never took out all four of them at once.

It will be hard, but you’ll have to let your brother get captured.  You’ll have to stand back while the Midnight Crew’s terrible plot is put into play, throwing the wretched timeline that you’ve had to live all these centuries into motion.

But you know that in the end, he will come out of it ok.  He will rise up to meet the challenges that face him.  And some day, he will be the one standing here, in a room filled with the friends he has made over the past 1000 years, ready to take down the Midnight Crew once and for all.

Clearly, Jane has put the facts together for herself.  She must have known who killed Roxy as soon as Dirk told her the story of her death.  And knowing Jane, she’s been plotting ever since.

“It sounds like you have a plan,” you say, turning to Jane and giving her the floor.

“I do,” she says.  “I can’t do it alone, but with all of your help, it just may be possible.  I don’t suppose Dirk and Dave—?”

“They won’t be a part of this,” you say with a sense of finality that nobody questions.

“I didn’t think so.  Very well,” she takes a deep breath, seeing that all of the eyes are turned to her.  “This is what we will need to do.”

* * *

 

**Bro == > Say goodbye to Dirk** 

The bass of Dirk’s music grows in volume until it suddenly stops.  They’re here.

You sense Dirk and Jake squeezing their way through the populated bar and lounge area.  When they make their way into the back, you grab Dirk and pull him into your office alone.  You regretfully shut the door on a very bewildered looking Jake.  Doing things like this to him has never been your favorite, but now that you know you will see him again soon, it bothers you less.

Dirk’s situation, however, bothers you far more.  After this, you’ll never see the kid again.

He turns to you in confusion and shrugs, thinking about how he’ll just explain that you’re weird to Jake later.

“No, you won’t explain to him later,” you respond quickly.

Dirk’s waiting for you to say more.  To elaborate on that.  He can tell that you’re nervous about something and that you’re scared. 

Shit, really?  The kid’s gotten so much better at reading feelings.  And he’s just beginning to learn to read thoughts.  That’s a skill that will be invaluable to him later, but unfortunately you don’t have time to explain it to him.  You’ll have to count on your dad, your _real dad_ , to do that.

Dirk wonders what could be making you, his ultimate badass brother, afraid.

“Heh, you do know me better than anyone,” you chuckle quietly.  “And you know, it takes a lot of Strider cool to be the ultimate badass. You sure you’re man enough for that?”

“You know I’m game,” he responds smoothly. “What’s the deal?”

You sigh out your frustrations in one breath and say, “the deal is that it’s April the 5th, and your assignment today is the Old Plaza Mall.”

You hear it when AR begins to pester Dirk through his shades.

“ _You ready to go, Hal?_ ” you think to your own computer counterpart through your shades.

“ _Born ready_ ,” Hal responds through your shades directly into your mind.  “ _Just run the file and I’ll do the rest of the work._ ”

“Ok?” Dirk says, clearly confused.  He’s listening to AR telling him that something is wrong with you. He’s starting to agree.

Can’t have that.

Quickly, you walk up to him. For a moment, you look into Dirk’s eyes behind his shades, but then you focus your attention on his program. “Hey AR.  Run file Broistheultimatebadass.exe”

You hear AR’s confusion through Dirk’s mind, and then he vanishes.

“Bro, what’d you do to AR?” Dirk asks, frowning slightly in suspicion.

“Nothing much,” you admit.  “I just wanted him to shut up for one fucking second. He’ll be back before you know it.”

Silently, Dirk agrees.  He knows how stubborn the computer program he built is, and though he also knows you’re a programming genius, he doesn’t think you have the capability to find _every_ place AR hid his program.

Little does he know that you have your own copy of the program on your side.  With him on the mind, Hal’s thoughts blip into your brain.  “ _It’s done.  The copy of me is in Dirk’s shades.  His AR is awake too, but he knows not to respond to him yet. He’ll play the videos to wake him up in the cell and then stay silent until he’s in the past._ ”

You send a silent thanks to Hal and then focus your attention back on Dirk, who is wondering why you decided to shut AR up today and not any other day.

You decide not to answer his question.  Instead, you ask, “Dave’s staying with John in the fairy forest today, yeah?”

Again, Dirk is surprised.  He knows that he didn’t think about Dave at all, and he’s perplexed about how you managed to pick it out of his mind.  “Yeah.  He just left.  How do you know—”

Before he can finish, you remind him, “info is what I do, remember?”

Seeing Dirk standing there, completely grown up, completely in love with Jake, it hits you.  You’ve done everything you can to prepare Dirk for this day.  You’ve given him the strength and the skills that he will need to do everything that you did.  To survive.  To endure.  To become a leader.

It hits you _hard_ just how much you’re going to miss him.

Without a word of warning, you sweep in and capture him in your arms tightly.  You give him the biggest hug you possibly can, and fill him with all of your love and energy.  As much as the kid can hold.

This isn’t like you, so naturally, Dirk is a little weirded out.  “Dude, you’re freakin’ the shit out of me.  You’re never like this,” he murmurs.  “What’s going on, Bro?”

How you wish you could tell him.  But you can’t divulge all of the details of his future to him.  He has to make these decisions for himself.  He has to be free to love, hate, live, or die all on his own terms.  You know that he won’t make _all_ the right choices, but he’ll come out ok in the end.

After all.  He’s you.

“Striders look out for each other,” you tell him, repeating the words you’ve ingrained in him since he was a child.  “Striders stick together.  Remember that.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I could forget that if I tried,” he says back with his usual sarcasm but also a slight sense of unease.  “Seriously, Bro, is something going down today I don’t know about?”

Again, you ignore his question.  Instead, you pull away from him, looking at him with care and love.  “You’re going to the Old Plaza Mall today to take care of some zombies that have been congregating there.  Dust them, and come straight back here.  Don’t get distracted. No detours.”

Dirk assesses your statement quietly, but he can’t figure you out.  He will soon.  Eventually, he gives up and says, “ok, but do _me_ a favor and chill a little.  Gonna freak everyone around here out with that attitude of yours.”

Then he does it. Dirk turns around to leave.  And you don’t think you’ve ever been sadder to see the back of his t-shirt and his stupid hair that he spends way too much time on or the way he slightly swings his arms (but not too much, can’t be uncool) as he walks just like you do.

And before you know it, you’re saying something, _anything_ to make him stay just a moment or two longer.   “She’ll help you!” is what you end up shouting across the room at him.

It’s so random that Dirk is completely baffled.  He looks back at you and asks, “what?”

“She’ll help you,” you repeat a little softer than the last time.  You don’t bother identifying who _she_ is.  Dirk will figure it out.  “That’s all you need to know.  Trust me on this one. I promise it’ll be the last time you’ll ever have to just take my word for things again.”

You’re such a liar.  Not even a couple hours ago, Bro just sent you his last message, telling you that this would be the last thing he’d ever tell you to do.  You actually think he was serious this time.

“The last time?” Dirk repeats, completely turning around to face you.  He walks up to you filled with determination, and importance, and anger, and _fear_.  Dirk doesn’t know anything about what’s to come, but he does know _you_.  And in that moment of anger and self-righteous strength, Dirk realizes it. 

For the first time, Dirk truly realizes that you’re not really that glorified person he always believed you were. 

Dirk realizes that you’re no better than him. 

You’re his brother.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.

“Bro, what are you planning?” he asks again, and you see the agitation in his eyes and the furrowing of his brows.  “For fuck’s sake, tell me.”

But you don’t tell him.  Instead, you shake your head.  “It’s not about me lil’ man, it’s about what’s in here,” you tell him softly, tapping your index finger to his forehead.

And finally, _finally_ , Dirk seems to realize it.  That you may never see each other again.  He realizes it deep down, but he doesn’t want to believe it.  You’ve been his protector forever.  You’ve always been a part of his life.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

You both shake away unwanted thoughts, and slowly Dirk nods at you, showing you that in some way he understands.  “Bro? Don’t do anything crazy, ok?”

“Never dream of it,” you assure him. Then, you look at him with fondness and finally say it outloud.  The thing that you’ve wanted to tell him forever but have always been too cool to voice.

“Dirk, I’m proud of you.”

Ok, that wasn’t exactly the thing you meant to say.  But Dirk knows what you really mean.  He knows that you’re telling him you love him.

Dirk gets a little choked up and almost gasps, but he holds it back, thinking of how Striders are too cool and definitely don’t gasp in front of you.

“No, they don’t,” you agree. “But you do remember what Striders do, right?”

“Striders stick together,” Dirk says, murmuring the mantra you have ingrained in him and Dave since they were children.

“Damn straight,” you agree, patting him on the back.  You hold onto his shoulder just a moment longer than is really necessary, because you want to keep this moment forever.

You never want to forget Dirk, the brother that you sacrificed 1000 years of your life to raise and love. 

Then you tilt your head to the side and give him a lopsided grin.  “Now go get ‘em, lil’ man!  Make your older bro proud!”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he agrees.  Slowly, he turns and walks out the door, not bothering to say goodbye, because somewhere deep inside him, he hopes that his suspicions aren’t true. He hopes that today will be like any other and he will see you again.

“I know you will,” you murmur quietly, just before he shuts the door behind him.

And just like that, your younger brother is gone.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Fight the Midnight Crew** 

If someone were to walk into Haven now, they wouldn’t recognize the place.  After chasing all of the customers (except Cronus) out, you and your friends stripped it clean of anything that could possibly be of value.  You’ve taken everything you want to save and thrown it through your Derse portal, knowing that it’s safe in the Condesce’s castle and that you can always get it later.

After all of these centuries hiding it, you finally showed your employees the portal that you kept hidden in your closet.  Most of them were shocked.  A couple were unsurprisingly angry.  You don’t blame them. 

You didn’t tell them about your association with the Condesce, but after quickly scanning their minds, only a couple of them even suspect it.  Karkat and Porrim, the same ones as before.

After Jane finished explaining her part, you took over and explained your strategies for the upcoming fight.

Your friends thought you were crazy when you told them your plan, but after running through the entire mess twice, they all seemed to catch on.  You really don’t blame them, though.  Had someone told you yesterday what you would be ready to do today, you’d have laughed at them.

And yet, here you are, tearing your place apart.  The place you worked for centuries to build.  The dream your parents gave you of protecting the world being literally ripped apart at the seams.

It’s in this disorganized state that you sit down to film the very last video for Dirk.  Hal assured you that he could send the file to the copy of himself in Dirk’s sunglasses without your brother knowing.

You’re such a mess right now.  You miss Dirk. You miss Jake.  You miss your parents.  You miss the dreams that you always fought for.

Really, you’re in no state to be giving a friendly brotherly lecture to Dirk, but you do it anyway.  You tell Dirk that you miss your little brother already.  You tell him to hug the shit out of the little brother that he’ll have raised by this point.

It’s weird knowing that you’re really talking to yourself, in a strange and convoluted way, but in the moment, it’s Dirk you’re talking to.  It’s the little brother that you just let slip through your fingers.

When he says he’ll miss you, you smirk at him, and tell him you know.  Really, you know better than anyone.  The sound of your friends tearing apart the place reaches your ears, and you know that you have to go.  That there isn’t much time left.

You warn him of the attack on Haven and salute him.  “You did good, kid.  You did good.”

With those final words, you end the video and leave Dirk behind forever.  You look down at your desk.  At the gold plated plaque that Dirk gave you engraved with your name, “BRO STRIDER.”

Quietly you blink away a few tears.

When you look back up, it’s with a renewed sense of purpose.  You don’t have the time to mourn the loss of two brothers.  You have a job to finish.

Wordlessly, you grab the plaque and throw it through the portal to Derse.  You’ll lament over your brothers later.  For now, you have a talented team of friends who need your leadership.

When you meet the others outside Haven, staring up at the beautiful sign you just installed earlier this year, Porrim says, “it seems like such a shame.  Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” you respond confidently.  One by one, you look at each of your friends, making sure that none of you were left behind.  “Last call.  Anyone need anything from inside?”

They all shake their heads at you.

“Then, ladies and gentlemen,” you declare, turning back around to face the place, “we are _closed_.”

You hold up a single match, strike it on the side of the matchbox, and flick it toward the building.

At first, the fire springs up from the concrete pavement outside. Then, it quickly follows a trail along the ground and works its way inside.  Within seconds, the entire place is ablaze with brilliant orange flames.  Naturally, the place was doused with all of the liquor from the bar, making it extremely flammable.

“I still don’t see why you had to set it on fire,” Karkat says, indicating toward Haven with a wave of his hand.  “Seems a little _counterproductive_ to me.”

“It’s a signal,” you respond darkly, drawing your katana and taking a defensive stance.  “A sign that I know the Midnight Crew is coming.  A sign for them to attack.”

Recognizing your sign, everyone quickly disperses, leaving you alone in front of the burning building.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” you murmur, your eyes darting to the empty rooftops, to the darkened shadows of trashcans and lampposts, into the deep foliage of trees planted in this urban jungle. 

You _know_ the Midnight Crew is out there.  Watching.  Waiting.

You hear a light scuffling sound and turn sharply around, your eyes focusing on the dark shadows behind parked cars and the sharply demarcated metal fence surrounding a park nearby. 

There is the sound of the fire raging behind you. 

There is silence.

This waiting is agony.  Intense agony. 

You’re already on edge from losing Dirk.  And you’re alert as fuck, because Jake’s coming back tonight.  Losing Dirk hurt worse than you thought it would.  You’ll never see that kid’s smile again.  Never get to scold him for being too emo.  Never plan another birthday party.

You’ll never have another chance to actually tell him how much you care about him.

You wait for some time, but nothing happens.  The Midnight Crew doesn’t make a move.  And in the distance, you hear Dirk’s Jeep roaring down the street as fast as it can go.

Time to make your exit.

You jump up onto the rooftop of the building across the street, watching the scene below.  You watch as Dirk runs up to Haven, with Jake at his side.

Dirk is scared shitless.  And not for his own safety, which really should be his concern right now.

He’s scared for you.  The only thing in his mind is guilt about how he left you.  About how he should have seen this coming.

And Dirk isn’t the only one who is upset about this mess.

Jake is anguished too.  Dirk is so preoccupied with running and screaming your name that he doesn’t see the expression on Jake’s face.

He doesn’t see the way Jake’s eyes are tearing, not just from the smoke.  He doesn’t see the way Jake is curling his hands into tight fists.  He doesn’t see the look of pure rage in Jake’s brilliant emerald eyes.

Because Jake thinks he’s lost you too.

Jake is heartbroken.

And you know now, without a shred of doubt, that Jake loves you.

_Jake loves you._

_Jake loves **you**_. 

The pain in his thoughts is bright as the sun as he holds Dirk back, keeping him from running inside the burning building.  “You can’t go in there, Dirk!!! You’ll be roasted alive!!!” he exclaims loudly, his eyes wild and filled with purpose.

Jake can’t lose Dirk too.  You hear it in his thoughts.  He’s lost you, and he has to do everything he can to protect Dirk from suffering the same fate.

But Dirk doesn’t hear any of Jake’s thoughts.

“Bro’s in there!”  Dirk shouts back angrily.  “I have to help him!”

Such a good kid. You raised such a good kid. 

As you watch your lil’ bro and Jake standing in front of the burning remains of your dreams, the juxtaposition of the past and present snaps into perfect clarity in your mind. 

This is your past.  This is Dirk’s present.  But the future, Dirk’s future, _your future_ , is yet unwritten.

Suddenly it hits you.

You’ve made a terrible mistake.

Why are you letting them get taken by the Midnight Crew anyway?  Why are you perpetuating the cycle of grief and pain for Dirk?  For yourself?

If Dirk and Jake never get captured, then they will never go to the past. 

Lord English will never appear in the past.  

Lord English won’t kill your parents and force you to stay and raise yourself and Dave.

You will never have to become Bro.

You could stay here with Jake and keep both of your brothers. 

Your parents could still be alive.

But that isn’t what you’ve planned is it?  You’ve been so set on maintaining the fucking timeline that you didn’t even consider that option until this moment.  You didn’t think that there could be another way.

Your friends will let Dirk and Jake be taken by the Midnight Crew, because that’s what you told them to do.  You’re going to make them sit and watch the Midnight Crew beat up Dirk and Jake and throw them through a portal into a dimension set to self-destruct in a few weeks.

Suddenly, there is a burning in your heart.  More than a burning, it’s a _tearing desire_ , a _ferocious drive that you can’t ignore_. 

You can’t let this happen to Dirk.  To yourself.  To Jake.

If you change things, you don’t know what will happen to you.  Will you even live through this?  Will you even _exist_? 

The questions are muted in your mind as the metaphorical pounding of your heart picks up.

As you see the Midnight Crew stealthily begin to appear from the dark shadows where they were hiding, you make an executive decision.

**Fuck the timeline.**

Standing up to your full height, you grip your katana tightly, ready to make the decisive move.  You’re going to do it.  You’re going to save Dirk and Jake and fuck up the timeline, but you don’t care.

You’ll do it because it’s the right thing to do.

You’ll do it because you **love them**.

In one fluid movement, you flashstep to the edge of the building and jump off.

But something crashes into your right side _hard_.  You’re flying through the air, and before you know it, you find yourself flat on your back.  You aren’t on the ground below.  You’re back on the rooftop.

For a moment, your head spins, and you see two of Damara’s face, grinning above you.  The redness of her lipstick is deep as blood, and her dark horns and wings remind you of the mythical Devil that humans speak so fearfully of.  Did she always have wings?  Somehow you don’t think so.  Her smile is malicious and simultaneously coy as she says, in Japanese, “ _did you really think you were alone up here, Dirk Strider?_ ”

The fact that she even knows that name infuriates you even more.  Quickly, you blink and there is only _one_ Damara standing above you.  In a flash, you’re back on your feet, facing her. 

It takes you half a second to figure out what happened.  She flew into you as you were jumping off the building and threw you back on this rooftop.  You know that she can do it again.  Though she can’t see it, you narrow your eyes at her and respond to her in Japanese. “ _You know that I can kill you.  Get out of my way._ ”

“ _So naïve,_ ” she laughs.“ _Do you really think I am alone_?”

Before you can respond to that, something clawing and painful tears into your back, pushing you forward onto your face.  You can tell from the manic thoughts behind you that it’s Meulin Leijon that pounced onto your back at full speed, skidding you across the rooftop several feet and burning angry red trails into your skin from the concrete.  When your combined momentum stops, your face is next to the edge of the building.

Struggling, you push yourself up enough to see over the edge.  You see that the Midnight Crew is out in the open now.  That they’ve already attacked Jake to the ground.

You watch as Hearts Boxcars takes Dirk by the back of the head and smashes him into the ground.

**NO!!!!**

With a burst of energy, you shove off the ground with your arms, and flip over onto your back, crushing Meulin into the rooftop pavement.  A few gravel pebbles from the rooftop fly up around you from the force of the blow, and you hear her tiny screech of protest.

She detaches her claws from your back, and you pull free.

Dirk.  You HAVE to get to Dirk!! It’s going to happen soon!!!

Again, you make a leap for the edge of the building, but this time a tall and massive force knocks you aside.  You flip and land on your feet, facing the thing that came between you and your goal.

Instantly, you freeze.

It’s Kurloz.

You _can’t_ let yourself get caught by him again.

Suddenly, your entire vision goes black.  It takes you half a second to realize that Hal did it.  He blackened your shades so you can’t see.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, but till I get there, _don’t look at his eyes!!!_ ” Hal instructs you in your mind.

You know it’s the best thing, but you hate losing one of your senses right now. You need all of them to fight optimally.

Quickly, you adjust, relying on your hearing and on your incubus senses of reading thoughts.  You hear Meulin still struggling on the rooftop a little ways from where you left her.  You hear Kurloz’s impassive presence right in front of you.  You hear Damara swinging her talons toward your left side.

Nimbly, you deflect Damara’s talons with your katana, pushing her off you.  Kurloz is more difficult to hear, but when he silently paces toward you, with a club in each hand, you are ready for him.  You hear the rustling of his fabric as he brings the left club up.  As he swings it your way, you roll aside, slicing your katana through his leg as you do so.

Kurloz makes no sound, but you hear the pure RAGE in his thoughts as you inflict the wound.  Meulin has recovered by this point, and as she pounces at you head-on, you catch her by her claws, letting her rip into your hands a bit and draw blood.  Then, you heave her up and over you.  As she flies overhead, you let go, and stab her through the abdomen, feeling her blood rain atop you and hearing her piercing cry.

Damara is coming at you again, from above this time.  She dives down at you, and there is no way you can completely avoid the attack.  Even with your flashstepping skills, she’s almost on top of you.  Flashstepping back as far as you can, you grab the tattered remains of Kurloz’s clothing and spin him in front of you.

Damara’s talons rip into Kurloz’s chest, and the three of you all crash into the rooftop.

The force of the impact knocks you all down for a few seconds.  It’s a few seconds you know you don’t have.

Frantically, you struggle to your feet, stumbling again to the edge of the building.  You tear your still blackened shades off your eyes and look down at the scene below.

You’re just in time to see Dirk get stabbed by Spades Slick.  He and Jake are both fully bound, though the knife stab looks as though it broke through some of Dirk’s bindings.

The entire Midnight Crew is there.  Diamonds Droog, Spades Slick, Hearts Boxcars, and Clubs Deuce are all surrounding them.  It looks like Diamonds and Clubs are both working on creating a dark portal, while Hearts collects Jake and Spades stabs Dirk again.

You have to get to them NOW.  You only have a few seconds before they will be gone forever.

Even though you still are less than steady, you pull yourself to the edge of the building, intent on jumping over.

But suddenly there is a tearing pain in your calves that drags you backwards forcefully.  Quickly, you throw your arms in front of you and are just barely able to avoid crashing your head into the cement.  “Fucking _damn it_!”  You snarl at Meulin, who you know is the one holding you back.  “Get the _fuck out of my way!!!_ ”

But she does not.  Now that your shades are off, you can actually see how badly you wounded her.  With a gash like that from her chest down her entire abdomen, she shouldn’t be moving, much less trying to fight you.  But there is a ferocious determination in her eyes that tells you this is _everything_ to her.  That she will give everything, including her life, to stop you from interfering.

And like that, everything clicks into place.  Their obsession with Jake.  Their devotion to Lord English.

It wasn’t chance that you found them all those years in the past when Lord English surfaced the second time.  The Midnight Crew started Lord English’s revival, but they finished it.

You almost want to laugh.  All of this happened right under Her Imperious Condescension’s nose, but she was too vain to ever look into it.  Why should she care what mischief her demons dabbled in on the side?  If her agents did her work, why would it benefit her to know who else they worked for?

Perhaps she would have cared more if she knew they worked for the one monster she detested the most.  Perhaps she would have done something had she known that the Midnight Crew, Damara, Kurloz, and Meulin all worked for Lord English.

That their goal was always the same: to revive their lord.  To pull Lord English out of Jake.

You realize now that Jake never had trouble with them in the past, even though they had been around far longer than a thousand years.  They never bothered him, because _they never knew what he looked like_.  Jake is far older than all of them.  You are certain that he trapped Lord English within his body far before any of them came into existence.

They never knew to target Jake until that fateful day that _you_ showed them his appearance.  The day a thousand years ago that you pulled Lord English out of Jake and revealed his body to them.

Now you know why Damara knew your true name.  She was watching Lord English.  She was watching Jake.  And after you sent him back into the future, _she was watching you._

This surprisingly large epiphany takes about a second to process, in which time you quickly slide your shades back over your eyes.  Now that you know the truth, there is absolutely no time for mercy.

Pushing off the cement, you flip over onto your back, kicking your legs and flipping Meulin too.  You sit up, and in two careful but precise swipes of your katana, you slice off Meulin’s arms.  She shrieks with fury and pain beneath you, but you are finally able to pry her claws out of your legs.

You sense Kurloz’s rage rise in the air around you, surrounding the entire rooftop with its malignant charge.

Even though your shades are darkened and you can’t see anything, much less Kurloz’s eyes, you begin to feel his influence over you.  You start to hear his thoughts not just as an observer but as an active participant.

Your body starts to bend to his will.

**NO!!!**   This can’t happen.  _You can’t allow this to happen!_

But try as you might, you feel your arm lifting into the air, the sharp tip of your katana slowly reversing to point at _you_  

This isn’t right.  _This isn’t right._   You KNOW this isn’t right.  Your arm shakes, the blade halting in the air an inch away from your skin as you struggle to point it away from yourself.

“JAKE!!!” You hear Dirk shout from the street below. 

 Fuck. You’re running out of time. 

“Aww, ya worried about youse lover?  How precious.  Don’t ya worry, I’ma take real good care of him,” you hear Spades Slick croon mockingly.

“Don’t touch him, Spades!” You hear Dirk growl, mirroring your own thoughts.  “I swear if you do I’ll—”

Dirk stops talking, and your own mind threatens to give in when you hear a tiny whimper from Jake.  Jake is in pain.  _Jake_ _needs your help._

Why can’t you break free??? Why can’t you—

Suddenly, your arm is your own again, and you swing your katana harmlessly to the side.  The blackness fades from your shades, allowing you to see Hal with perfect clarity, stabbing a katana of his own through Kurloz’s back.

“JAKE!!!” You hear Dirk scream again.

Hal slides the katana easily through the demon, separating the right and left side of his body.  Then, he throws his katana in your direction.  You hear Damara’s cry to your right, as the blade pierces her wing and pins her to the rooftop.

“GO!!!” Hal shouts, with a sweep of his arm.

It takes you less than a second to _finally_ jump off the edge of the building.

As you fall, you notice that Dirk is already knocked out and slung over Hearts Boxcars’ shoulder.  Jake is over his other shoulder.  Whatever they did to Jake unwound his binding, but he’s thoroughly knocked out.

Diamonds Droog and Clubs Deuce have finished the portal.

You have to get there in time.  You _have to get to them._

All these years.  All these centuries, you have done everything you can to raise Dirk to be the best person he can be.  This past millennia, you have worked your ass off to be the best fucking guardian ever.  Maybe you didn’t always have it right.  There were a few dark moments.  Centuries.  But you never stopped working, training yourself to be better, faster, stronger, and even more deadly than before.  You’re a verifiable killing machine now, and you have no doubt that you can take down the Midnight Crew.

But try as you might, you can’t fall any faster. 

Gravity, it would seem, is your weakness.

You feel the rush of air on your cheeks, flapping around the popped collar of your white dress shirt.  There’s a burning in your eyes and in your soul as you realize that Hearts Boxcars is already at the portal.

As your right foot touches the ground, Hearts throws Jake through the portal.

**NO!!!**

You’re flashstepping their way.  You’ve closed half the distance between you and them.  But even with your speed, it’s not fast enough.

You watch, unable to do a thing, as he throws Dirk through the portal.

**Your little bro is gone.**

**Jake is gone.**

You scream with livid fury, ready to jump through the portal again.  Ready to do it all again just to protect them. 

Even if it doesn’t make any sense.  Even if there is literally _nothing you can do_.

But Diamonds and Clubs just smirk at you, bringing down their hands and the portal at the same time.

By the time you reach it, you run through the open air.

“Aww, still worried about youse lover?  Or maybe youse brother?” Spades asks with his mock sympathy, this time directed at you.  “Don’t ya worry, we’ve sent ‘em someplace _real nice_.”

You remember the place they sent Dirk and Jake.  You recall all too well that horrible cell in the desert, filled with nothing but sand and a destiny to explode within a month.

It nearly drove you mad, and it forced Jake to unleash Lord English on the universe.  Jake didn’t have to do it, but he did it to protect you.

Because he loves you.

And suddenly you realize something.  That even though you’ve failed Dirk, Dave, and yourself miserably by starting this terrible chain of events, the end you have been waiting for forever should be here now.

Jake.

Jake should be here now. 

The waiting is over.  It’s finally fucking over.

But you have one more task to finish first.  The Midnight Crew has to be put away for good.

Time to kick some ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Placeholder Penis this week! (For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, I posted a delightful painting I did last week in lieu of a chapter on my tumblr.) Life has been VERY busy lately, and I haven’t had much time to write. It might take a little while again to put out the last few chapters. If you’re interested in story status updates, I put those up on tumblr every week, so check it out.
> 
> On another note, I wanted the entire fight scene to be one chapter, but it was getting too long. We’ll have to see the remainder of the fight scene next time!
> 
> Also, feel free to comment or send me emails directly. I don't bite, I promise! I love hearing from people, and though it might take me a while, I do respond to everyone!
> 
> My Tumblr is here: http://lateniteslacker.tumblr.com/


	30. Round 2, STRIFE!

As you turn to face the Midnight Crew, you see four identical smiles of pure evil.  You want nothing more than to detach their heads from their bodies. 

But that’s not part of the plan.  You would say fuck the plan, because that’s just how pissed you are right now, but something stops you from doing that.

It’s hard to ignore two towering dragons when they crash down to the ground beside you.

Terezi and Latula respond to the signal you worked out earlier.  They saw you run into the heat of battle after Dirk and Jake disappeared, and now they are here to join you.  Terezi is easily recognizable with her gleaming red scales.  Latula is a vivid aqua color.  Standing side by side, they are formidable foes.

Spades Slick’s eyes narrow to little white slits as Terezi opens her mouth full of piercing razor sharp teeth and snaps at him.  He’s quick, which you remember from seeing him fight before, and he manages to dodge out of the way in time to avoid being dragon food.

Hearts Boxcars’s grin morphs into a wider, more demented look that you can no longer call a smile.  His teeth are bared back at the dragons, and when Latula snaps at him, he catches her lower jaw with his bare hands, shoving her up into the sky.

Even though she’s a hundred times his size, Latula goes flying up into the air.  She spreads her wings, steadying herself and hovering in the sky.  She sneers at them, and you can see the fire building behind her slightly open mouth.

“Not yet!!!” Jane screams, running in from beneath the aqua dragon.  She is carrying a long red spear that is far too reminiscent of the Condesce’s trident for your comfort.  She’s wearing jean pants today as well as a gray t-shirt sporting her favorite ectoplasmic blue ghost.  It’s clear that she’s here today to _fight._  Jane points the weapon at the Midnight Crew and says lowly, “death is too good for them.”

Latula understands, and she swiftly flies up higher, giving Jane plenty of room to work.

The Midnight Crew look smug as shit when they see the little girl that is supposedly their foe. 

“Such a cutie, Jane,” Slick says, pulling a long serrated knife slowly from its sheathe at his side.  “Tell me, ya think dis time youse got it in ya ta _fight_?  Or youse gonna run home an hide again like a good little gal?”

Clubs is snickering beside him. “Yeah, ya tell ‘er.”

Jane is less than amused.  She brandishes her spear, taking a battle-ready position, and says, “I’m _not_ running away.”

“Neither are we.”

Though it’s Karkat’s voice that you recognize, the rest of your friends all appear at the same time.  Porrim, Kanaya, Karkat, Kankri, Cronus, Rufioh, and Tavros complete your circle around the Midnight Crew, surrounding them with an intimidating arsenal of weaponry.

Spades cackles.  “Oh!  Oh dis is just too _precious!_ ”  He leans over to Diamonds and says, “look at dem, dey think dey got us _surrounded_.  Like dis was a _plan_ a deres.”

The rest of the Midnight Crew chuckle back.  Lowly.  Maliciously.

Spades’ grin splits like a knife across his face again.  “Gents, ya know what ta do.”

As one, Diamonds, Hearts, and Clubs smile in that eerie way that matches Spades.

“Yeah, we know,” Diamonds replies.  He straightens his white tie with a swift tug and pulls a wicked looking cuestick from the air.  “I’m gonna _enjoy_ dis.”

“We’re gonna CRUSH ‘em!” Hearts says, pulling what looks like a TV antenna and a battleaxe, also out of thin air.

“Dey’ll have a very bad day!” Clubs pipes in, pulling out a golf club and what you would swear looks like a cane made out of bull penis.  Of course, these also appear out of thin air.

It would seem the Midnight Crew also have Sylladexes, just like Jake.  You’re going to have to score one of those sweet air pockets someday.  You’ll ask Jake about it later, but for now you have far more important things to think about.

“Gents,” Spades says, his eyes narrowing to slivers.  “ _Cut da deck_.”

In a flash, they all vanish.

You warned everyone that this would likely happen.  The eyes of your friends and companions turn to you for leadership. 

“The Midnight Crew is NOT made of cowards.  They haven’t really run.  Find them before they find you!”  You command quickly. “Keep them occupied until Jane and I get to them, and for fuck’s sake, don’t get yourselves killed!”

They all understand you.  Wordlessly, they separate into their teams and disappear.

You turn to Jane and ask her, “think you can still do it?  There’s no shame if you can’t.  We’ll just kill them as usual and try this again later.”

“I’m not backing down,” Jane says, setting her jaw with grim determination.  “This ends tonight.  For the sake of the world.  And for Roxy.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” you reply.  With a smirk, you hold out your fist to her.  “Let’s get ‘em.”

Jane fist bumps you back, and you’re off.

Listening carefully, you still hear the sounds of battle from the building above you.  Hal is still fighting off what’s left of Damara and Meulin.

Hal seems to recognize that you’re thinking about him, probably through your link as usual.  He sends his thoughts through your shades, “ _If you’re coming up here, watch out for the fire escape stairs.  Meulin and Kurloz are working their way back down, but I’ve almost got Damara._ ”

“ _Kurloz?  You’re shitting me.  You literally cut him in half,_ ” you think back. “ _And I cut off Meulin’s arms._ ”

“ _And somehow Kurloz grew that half back? And Meulin… I don’t know anymore, but I’ll take care of this mess. You get Jane to the Midnight Crew,_ ” Hal sends back.

You’ll leave him to it.

If you listen further, you can hear the sounds of battle in a few other locations.  Four different places, no doubt representing the four agents of the Midnight Crew.

There is no time to lose.  You have to get to each agent before either your team kills him, or he kills your team.

You turn to Jane and say with the utmost seriousness, “if we’re going to reach them, we have to _move_.  Faster than you can move.”

Jane seems to understand, and when you bend down low enough, she jumps onto your back.  You hold her securely by the legs and wait for her to lock her arms around your neck, trying your best not to reflexively swing your head back when she brings that giant crimson trident around in front of you.  “Ready when you are,” she says.

“Hang on tight,” you tell her, standing back up to your full height.  You feel her clutch onto you a little harder, and then you flashstep away.

Jane takes it like a champ.  After a short squeak at first take off, she is silent the entire way.

Your first stop is at an old abandoned factory building not far away.  You can hear the sounds of scuffle from inside.  The characteristic sound of Kanaya’s chainsaw roars through the air, and you know that it’s her and Karkat inside.  Wasting no time, you bust through the broken-down factory doors.

The place seems even bigger on the inside than the outside.  You aren’t sure what they used to build here, but it’s been a very long time since anybody has been inside this place.  A layer of dust covers the cracked cement floor, and the iron beams that support the place look suspiciously rusted-through.  Weeds have grown through the floor, and several window panes are broken or missing.

There are giant chunks of leftover rusted scrapmetal from factory machines that have long since gone out of use. The machines have decayed so much that you can’t even recognize what they used to be.

You duck just in time as a large piece of rusted scrap metal is thrown your way.  Your senses sharpen, honing in on Hearts Boxcars’ towering shape as he heaves up another large piece of scrapmetal with his bare hands.  “I’m gonna END YA!” he shouts, throwing the metal your way.

Again, you dodge the second piece.  After flashstepping safely out of the way, you put Jane back on the ground.  “The three of us will distract him.  You do what you’ve got to do.”

You hear the confirmation in Jane’s thoughts, and you don’t wait for her to say it outloud.  You’re already flashstepping away from there, drawing Hearts’ attention away from her and back to you.

Hearts Boxcars is a brute of an agent, and he walks purposefully down the length of the factory, chucking piece after piece of metal at you.  After throwing another piece at you, he blocks Kanaya’s chainsaw attacks with a large battleaxe.  Karkat swings in quickly after Kanaya, timing his attack so that he’ll catch Heart’s arm with his sickles.

Hearts doesn’t even wince as the sickles draw bright red blood.  He doesn’t seem the least bit deterred from hitting Karkat in the side with a TV antenna, throwing the smaller troll back into the wall with a loud crack.  Kanaya is more incensed after seeing her friend thrown into the wall, and she comes at Hearts again with her chainsaw.  Hearts may not be as fast as Spades, but he’s not slow by any means.  He manages to swoop to the side and avoid her attack, rearing up his battle axe in retaliation with the same movement.

By this point, you’ve flashstepped over to them, and you slice Heart’s right hand cleanly off his body before he can swing the battle axe at Kanaya.  He roars in fury and uses his left hand to deck you _hard_.  When his fist collides with your chest, you go flying into one of the old factory support beams.

The rusted beam crumbles away easily from the force of your weight, bringing down a section of the ceiling above you.  Thankfully, you’re not so disoriented that you can’t recover, and you manage to flashstep out of the way just before the metal and plaster crashes down on top of you.

The destruction of that section of the ceiling lets in the moonlight, which refracts off the cloud of dust and ceiling particles that is kicked up around you.  Karkat looks like he’s out for the count, but Kanaya is still keeping Hearts’ attention with her chainsaw. Hearts is fighting her viciously with his TV antenna.

Together, you have bought enough time for Jane to sneak up behind the agent.  She makes no battle cry. In fact, she makes no sound at all as she plunges the trident into his back.  Only the gleam in her eyes expresses the pure fury in her soul and the passion she has for what she is about to do.

Hearts roars, twisting around this way and that, but Jane holds onto the trident harder than ever as it begins to fill with a blindingly bright glow.

You recognize this feeling, and quickly, you flashstep in, grabbing Kanaya by the torso and pulling her out of the way.

You make it to the wall where Karkat is starting to come to just in time to avoid the holy attack.  A five foot radius of blinding white light surrounds Hearts and Jane, and finally you hear her screaming words in an ancient lost language out loud.  From the sky, blinding white swords rain down around Hearts, piercing the ceiling with fine precision and trapping him like a fence.

The holy energy picks up further, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the immunity Feferi placed on you long ago.  You realize, suddenly, that Kanaya is not so lucky, and you try to shield her body with yours as the light increases to a blinding luminescence.

There’s a crash, like lightning, and suddenly the light is gone.  Jane is standing alone in the center of the factory, panting heavily.  After a few seconds, she finally lowers her trident.

Karkat is coming to Kanaya’s side, assessing the burns that she sustained from the holy damage. On a quick glance, you realize that she is already healing and will be fine. 

“Did you kill the fucker?” Karkat asks.  He’s clutching his right arm, which is bent in an unnatural direction, but he seems otherwise ok.

“Worse,” Jane states, shaking her head.  When she looks up, there is a look of vengeance on her face, and you know that her revenge is far from over.  “I sent him to Prospit where he will burn in torment _forever_.”

You always knew Jane was a fighter.  You even knew the details of her little plan, since her mind is an open book to you.  But what shocks you is the hardened sound in her voice, and the grim determination in her rage-filled disposition. 

Jane is out for more than blood.  Jane is out for _revenge_.

You want to caution her about that, but you know it would do no good.  Jane is stubborn to a fault in many ways, and you know that she will never have second thoughts about what she is doing to Roxy’s murderers.

So instead, you simply tell her, “we have to move if we’re going to catch the others in time.”

Jane understands and is quick to jump back onto your back.   

Karkat also understands and waves you off with his good hand. “Get outta my face, and put those douche-nugget agents in their place.”

You grin at him, “you rhymed.  Dave’s gonna love that.”

Before Karkat has a chance to sling a mouthful of expletives at you, you’re off.

Your feet flashstep you both to the next place of battle.  When you put Jane down on the grass, she looks back at you.  Though she doesn’t say anything, you can hear her thinking, “ _really?  HERE?_ ”

You’re at a children’s playground.  At least, what used to be one.

You remember when this place was new a couple hundred years ago.  Now, all that remains are the sad metallic infrastructures of slides, with poles that used to support large play structures sticking haphazardly out of the ground.  There are large chunks of plastic buried in the dirt that were once colorful tubes and slides.  The weeds are deep and come halfway up your legs, swaying sadly in the breeze.

Dave and John used to play here.  Ironically of course.  You used to bring them here in your free time, but once you got busier, Dirk took on that responsibility.

Dirk.  Fuck do you miss him already.

“Bro!” Jane hisses at you, pulling you out of your memories.  “Are you sure this is the right place?  I don’t see them!”

“I’m sure,” you respond quietly, scanning the area.  You _know_ you heard a tell-tale explosion characteristic of Clubs Deuce’s handiwork.  And you only know one person who loves to shout “Bangarang!”

The air is tense as you wait for them to make a move.  The wind rustles the weeds.  A lone soda pop can rolls down the road nearby.

Suddenly, there’s a loud whoop and an explosion of color.  Your eyes widen in disbelief as you watch Rufioh burst out of the weeds, flying with his multi-colored wings and lifting a shocked Clubs Deuce into the air with him.

Clubs is waving that bull penis cane at him, swatting at his hair unhappily.

“Found ya, doll!”  Rufioh says, winking and flying a few loops in the air purely for fun.  “Hide and seek, good game to play!   It’s a shame the playground’s a little broken, but I’ve seen worse in Derse.  Right Tav?”

“That’s uhh right!”  Tavros says, bursting through the weeds from somewhere else with, holy fuck, rocket propelled legs.

“Hey Tav, wanna play some catch?”  Rufioh asks.  Without waiting for his brother to respond, he tosses Clubs his way.

Tavros easily catches Clubs, who immediately starts smacking him with his cane. Tavros frowns.  “He’s kind of mean.  Can I just uhh, drop him?”

“Drop him and we’ll lose him again!” Rufioh tisks back.  “Then he’ll set up more bombs, and that’ll be such a drag.”

You watch the two brothers interact for a short while.  The way they fluidly drift through the air together makes it clear that they’ve practice these sorts of moves _many_ times in the past.  Though they never really worked for you (and seeing the fact that they’re not actually damaging Clubs in any way, you’re glad that they didn’t) they are undeniably a close-knit team.

It reminds you of the days you and Dirk were partners.  Before you gave him Roxy.  Before you gave him Jake. Before you decided to do solo missions on your own.

You and Dirk were unstoppable.  You dare say you knew each other even better than Rufioh and Tavros. 

Being the same person will do that.

Finally, Rufioh notices you and Jane standing in wait, and he swoops down to greet you.  “Bro!”  he says, giving you a high five. 

“Look, I know it’s fun to play with the little shrimp, fuck any other day I’d say go at it for a week, but we’re on a tight schedule today,” you remind him.

“Ohhh _riiiiiight_ ,” Rufioh agrees.  Then, turning, he waves his hand to his brother.  “Tav, toss him here!”

Tavros eagerly tosses Clubs your way.

Rufioh opens up his arms to catch him, but Jane pushes him out of the way.  “He’s mine,” she says lowly, narrowing her eyes at the agent.   As he comes flying through the air, Jane holds her trident aloft.

With precision that is admirable, she stabs him as he flies through the air and throws him to the ground.  She wastes no time beginning the holy spell.

You and the Nitram brothers are quick to clear the area.  You watch with moderate relief as the second member of the Midnight Crew disappears in a flash of blinding light, surrounded by holy swords.

“Baller, dude,” Rufioh says, high fiving you again.

“Yeah, I know. Jane’s pretty awesome, but we’ve gotta go,” you say.

“Do what you’ve gotta do, Bro!” Rufioh agrees, waving you off.

You nod at the Nitrams and turn your attention back to Jane, returning to her side swiftly.

When she sent Hearts to Prospit, Jane’s expression was one of determination.  Though she still has that same ferocity, there’s a weariness behind her eyes that you don’t think was there before.  Not just the usual lack of sleep weariness.

It’s a lifetime weariness.

Jane tries to move over to your back, but you stop her quickly, catching her wrist with your hand.  There isn’t much time, but you look her in the eyes with the utmost seriousness and ask, “Jane, is there something you aren’t telling me?”

She doesn’t say anything, and you don’t wait for her to.  You plunge into her thoughts, finding what you were looking for right on the surface of her mind.  Your eyes widen.  “Jane—”

“You can read my mind, I know,” she says.  “So you know the truth.  And you know that I won’t back down.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly, and it takes a good deal of concentration not to let the corners of your lips dip into a frown.  “We don’t have to continue,” you impress on her.  “Trapping two of the Midnight Crew is enough to stifle them significantly.”

“Yes, we do,” she says stubbornly.  “These people killed Roxy.  I won’t let them get away.”

Quickly, you poke into every inch of her mind, and you find her resolve to be firm and true.  Jane won’t stop now, regardless of the consequences.

Maybe it’s because you just lost two people very close to you that you’re acting this way.  Losing two brothers will do that.  You know Bro would laugh at you for the way you’re acting now, but you don’t give a fuck because you’ll never see him again.  He’ll never have the opportunity to taunt you again now that you’ve finally caught up to the time you left.

You’re worried about Jane.  You’re worried as fuck, but this is her decision.  You have to respect her wishes and let her make it.

Finally, you give her a swift nod. You don’t say anything, because nothing is left to be said.  Instead, you lean down low enough for her to jump onto your back again.  Once she’s secured, you flashstep away.

The next battle is difficult to miss.  You wince a little when you realize where you are.

Dave’s old penthouse condominium.

After the incident when he was kidnapped, you insisted that he live either with you or with Dirk.  He chose to live with Dirk and has been in your now nonexistent younger brother’s place since.  You always wondered why the agents went after Dave and never Dirk.  Obviously they were trying to get to Jake, so wouldn’t going after you have made more sense?

Now you realize that it was a bit more than that.  Due to a horribly ironic coincidence, it was all too convenient to go after Dave first.

Having a portal from Derse on the roof of your building will do that.

You wonder how Dave missed the rooftop portal as soon as you get there.  But you suppose that if the portal was new, he might not have had the chance to discover it before he was attacked.  Just thinking about that night leaves a pit at the bottom of your stomach.  You wish that there was more you could have done for your lil bro.  You wish that he didn’t have to go through the agony he endured, but you know that as terrible as it was, Dave came out of it for the better.

The experience brought Dave and John that much closer.

Realizing that you don’t have time to think about this, you shift Jane on your back and ask, “you ready for this?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” she murmurs.

“You are _so_ right,” you agree, gripping onto her tighter.  Flashstepping to the back doors, you kick through them and begin ascending the fire escape stairs.  You remember climbing the same stairs 1000 years ago with Jake by your side.  At the time, taking the stairs up to Dave’s penthouse floor left you and Jake slightly out of breath.  Even with Jane on your back, that doesn’t happen anymore, but climbing all of those flights still isn’t fun.

As you ascend, you notice that the building is empty already.  It’s not like people stopped living here, so you know they must have left on their own at some point.  When you feel the building shake violently, and an overwhelming pulse of _evil_ energy follow behind it, you know why the residents all left.

You don’t blame them.  If killing demons wasn’t your job, you’d want to leave too.

You arrive on the rooftop and immediately sense the danger and destruction below.  There is broken cement and plaster everywhere.  You see some training equipment Dave left up here strewn about. Aww, you’re so proud of the kid.

But you don’t have time to bask in your brotherly pride.  Instead, you have to pay attention to important things, like the giant gaping hole in front of you.  With Jane still on your back, you peer down.

Below you, you see the broken wooden panels of Dave’s kitchen.  The kid’s going to be so thrilled to hear about _that_.  It leaves a very large hole in his floor which has broken through to the floor below it.  And the floor below that.  And the floor below _that_.

Far below, you can see the blurred movements of fighting.  You estimate it to be at least fifteen stories below. 

You wish you had known.  You wouldn’t have bothered with all those extra stairs.

“Hold on _tight_ ,” you tell Jane.  “We’ve got a long fall ahead of us.”

You hear Jane gulp behind you and feel her fingernails dig into the skin of your arms.  Even if you weren’t an incubus and couldn’t read thoughts, you would know that she is _petrified_ of the fall ahead.  “You’ll be ok,” you reassure her, though you know that nothing you could say will take away her fear.

There isn’t time to calm her down, and you decide that it wouldn’t be possible anyway.  So you tell her, “We’ll go on the count of three, ok?”

“O-ok,” Jane agrees.

“One,” you murmur.  Jane clings to you tighter. 

You lean over the edge and fall hands first through the hole in the floor. 

Jane is screeching in your ear, and you hear her thoughts loudly in your head, “ _he jumped on ONE.  Oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK HE JUMPED ON ONE!!!_ ” You do your best to ignore her, focusing on the fighting below you.  Diamonds Droog is definitely in the building, and it looks like Porrim, Kankri, and Cronus are fighting him.

The floor comes into focus all too soon.  It’s an ugly black and white checkered tiled motif.  You reach out and touch the cold tiles with your fingertips first, curling your legs beneath you.  This is definitely not the best way to fall, but with Jane on your back, rolling isn’t an option.  You’ll have to make do with what you have.

Your arms and legs take the force of the blow, absorbing a majority of the shock.  You land as smoothly as possible, but the air is still knocked out of your lungs as you fall flat onto your chest.  Pain blossoms in your torso, and you hear the telltale sound of some of your ribs cracking.  It’ll heal quickly, but ouch.

It seems your little entrance attracted some attention, because you now have four pairs of eyes looking at you two.  Quickly, you get up, setting Jane to her feet.  You’re relieved to see that she’s shaken but unharmed.

Diamonds Droog is a classy gent.  Despite literally crashing through the floor several times, very little dust has settled on his pitch black suit.  He brandishes a wicked looking metal cuestick in his hand, the end covered with purple the same color as Cronus’s blood.

You take a second to glance at your surroundings.  You’re in the center of what used to be a nice, but tacky, condo.  The entire thing is themed with the same checkered pattern, giving the illusion that you’re in a giant chess game.  Diamonds is standing not far away, facing off Porrim with his cuestick.  Porrim has a metal circular chakram in each hand, and though she looks worse for wear, the small scratches on her are nothing compared to Cronus.

You almost wince when you see how badly Cronus is hurt.  It looks like he’s taken a few bullets as well as several cuestick punctures.  He’s sitting in a large pool of his own blood, and you don’t know if he’s going to make it.  You wish you could have made it here faster.  You’ll have to thank Cronus for his sacrifice later.

Kankri is meanwhile completely at a loss.  He’s kneeling beside Cronus with his sickles completely forgotten at his side.  He’s saying something to him, but you don’t have time to listen to what it is.  You feel kind of bad for dragging Kankri into this mess at all. You know he’s not really a fighter, and this battlefield is not the place to start.

“A newcomer ‘eh?” Diamonds says, his grin widening.  “I was wonderin’ when youse was gonna show youseself, _Strider_.  An’ look, ya brought dat dame wit’ ya.”

“My name is Jane,” she says beside you, facing off Diamonds in a way that is nothing but menacing.  “Remember it while you’re burning in torment for the rest of your life.”

“Sassy.  A lot like dis one,” Diamonds replies, indicating towards Porrim with a jab of his thumb.

With a growl, Porrim flings a chakram at him, but Diamonds stabs it quickly through the hollow center with his cuestick, letting the chakram circle harmlessly around the metal pole.  He tisks at her, “fightin’ wit a distracted foe?  Ya fight dirty.” 

He grins, whipping the cuestick around and flinging the chakram away.  “I _like it_.” 

Kankri screeches as the circular metal blade slices through half of his abdomen and embeds itself into Cronus’s arm behind him. 

Diamonds has been around for a _long_ time.  Long enough that he could have gone for the kill with that shot if he wanted to. 

But he didn’t.

Instead, he chose a place that would _hurt_ Kankri.  Just like the stabs he took at Cronus were in painful but nonvital areas.  Eventually they’ll both bleed out and die, if they aren’t cared for.  But it will take a while. They will suffer first.

Outside, you show no emotion, but inside you are livid.  Diamonds Droog.  This has always been his way.  Sadistic and cruel. You can’t wait to let Jane put him away forever.

“Jane, let’s finish this one,” you mutter to her.

“Gladly,” she agrees, gripping her trident tighter.

It’s going to be more difficult getting to Diamonds, since he is quicker than both Hearts and Clubs.  He’s craftier.  Of the four, you’ve actually seen Diamonds fight the least.  Usually, you only saw the horrific aftermath of one of his battles.

But over time, you’ve grown stronger.  You’ve become faster and more capable.  Your skills with a katana have improved dramatically.  The version of you that Diamonds sent away earlier this evening, the version 1000 years younger, couldn’t beat him.

_You_ can.

In a flash, you’ve pulled your katana from its sheathe and moved across the room.  You stand in between Diamonds and Porrim.  “Change of plans.”

“Oh?” he says, smiling at you eerily and spinning his cuestick for fun.  Cronus’s blood splats off it onto the ceiling and floors.

“Time for you to die,” you finish.

As you lunge at him, Diamonds is quick to parry with his cuestick.  You’re a little faster than him, but he’s no easy foe.  His blows knock you back, but they don’t dislodge you off your feet.  You’re certain that to the others, and especially to Jane, you’re both just a blur moving around the room parrying and attacking.

That isn’t what you’d hoped for.  You wanted to give Jane a chance to move in and deliver the final blow, but at this rate, she will be lucky just to _see_ him, much less kill him.

“Ya know what I like about ya, Strider?” Diamonds asks, swinging at you with his cuestick.  You step out of the way and let him break a wooden dining table cleanly in half instead of your head.  He grins, “ya got a soft spot for yer _friends_.”

The pistol is out and in motion before you have time to react.  While the wooden splinters of the table are still flying around in the air, you can only watch as he aims at Porrim and pulls the trigger.  You flashstep to him immediately, of course, but he’s anticipated your move.  Diamonds only gives you a casual glance and a grin before jumping over you and diving at Porrim.

In one charged shot, he strikes her through the chest with the cuestick and stabs her into the floor.  The force of the blow causes the floor to crunch below them.  Suddenly, you understand why Cronus has so many puncture wounds.

Driving the cuestick straight through Porrim, Diamonds pumps so much force into the blow that the ground below them cracks and falls out from beneath them.  In a flurry of plaster, concrete, metal piping, and dust, the two disappear to the floor below.

Quickly, you glance at Cronus and Kankri, but you know that as much as you want to help them there isn’t time.  Jane seems to have figured that out too, because she’s already running to your side.  This time, you opt for simply picking her up with your right arm before jumping to the floor below.

You land cleanly on your feet, avoiding the place where Porrim is laying in a pool of her own jade blood.  She’s not gone yet, but with Diamonds’ cuestick through her torso, the wound is being kept open.  Sadistically, he drives the cuestick into her, twisting it around to break open more of her skin and make her writhe in pain.  Porrim is losing blood at an alarming rate.

You hate what is happening, but you know an opportunity when you see one. 

While Jane holds her trident steady, you flashstep the weapon straight through Diamonds’ back.

But just when you think that this mess is almost over, he surprises you by tearing forward, ripping the barbed ends of the trident back through his chest and stumbling forward.  Diamonds finally pulls his cuestick from Porrim and turns to face you, his eyes narrowing with hatred.  He coughs and speckles of bright red blood fly from his mouth. 

“Ya ripped my suit,” he snarls at you, his voice filled with venom.  “Yer gonna _pay for dat!!!_ ”

Quickly, you set Jane back down and resume the fight.  This time, Diamonds is even more vicious with his strikes. Gone are his playful quips.  Now he’s out for blood.  Your blood.

You’re ready for this fight.  Now that he’s angered, Diamonds isn’t as focused as he was before.  You’re able to land a few strikes on him, ripping more holes into his suit and making him growl at you in rage.

And finally, you’re able to work him into a corner.  You knock the cuestick from his hands and hold your katana up against his neck, pinning him in place so that Jane can come in and finish him.

Then he starts chuckling, a deranged sound if you have ever heard one.  “Ya know what else I like about ya, Strider?”  His eyes narrow at yours and he smiles a bloody and vindictive looking smile.  “Ya never see da back attack comin’.”

Suddenly, the large windows behind you crash open.  The roaring wind sweeps into the place, sending fragments of glass and pieces of debris everywhere.

Like a dark pulsing wave, you sense another presence. A deep, malevolent, _evil_ presence that you have come to associate with the Midnight Crew.  You know without a doubt that there are two of them here now.

Spades Slick is here.

You hear the sound of Terezi and Latula’s dragon cries in the background but you don’t dare turn around.  Diamonds is crafty. You know he has more than one gun, and if you don’t finish him now, he _will_ kill you.

“JANE!” you shout at her.

The gleaming trident is in Diamond’s stomach before you say anything else.  Clearly, Jane had the same idea.  Or maybe it was her idea and you just picked it from her mind.  Things are moving so swiftly that you’re not sure.  From behind you, you hear Jane beginning her holy incantation.

There is an unmistakable tearing sound of the floor being destroyed behind you.  You’re not sure how many levels of this place are being taken out at once, but it sounds like more than one floor breaking.

The heat of Latula’s flames singes your back a little bit, and you hear Terezi’s claws crushing furniture and walls in massive fell sweeps.  Porrim’s voice enters the mix, even though you know she is badly injured, and when you concentrate, you hear the sound of her chakram whipping through the air.

It’s one giant shitstorm, and somehow you’re stuck in the middle of it.  Though you know from watching Hearts and Clubs that he must be in excruciating pain right now, Diamonds doesn’t seem to show it.  He only continues to look at you as Jane sends surge after surge of holy energy pulsing around you.  You silently thank Feferi for granting you immunity to holy energy, because you have a feeling you wouldn’t be able to tolerate this otherwise.

The chaos accelerates behind you, and you feel the ground beginning to slip away from your feet as this floor starts crashing into the one below it. 

Jane begins to slide.  You grab her by the waist and attempt to hold her, but you’re sliding too.

Diamonds grins at you more, his look becoming one of triumph.  And suddenly, his expression sours.

“How do you ever manage without me?”

You have never been happier to hear Hal’s voice.  He firmly locks you and Jane into place.  You still don’t dare turn around to look, but you feel his hands at your back, and you hear the sound of rocket propulsion in the air.  If you had to guess, he probably installed something similar to what Tavros has on his feet.

“Way cooler than that, Bro,” Hal assures you, still hearing your thoughts through your shades.  “But I’ll fill you in later.”

The light from Jane’s trident brightens, and you see the burning holy swords fall from above, forming a circle around Diamonds.

“ _Burn in Prospit forever!!!_ ” Jane screams. 

Finally, Diamonds seems to understand the gravity of the situation, and for a fleeting moment you see his eyes widen in absolute horror.  He opens his mouth, but no snarky witty retort comes out.  He doesn’t even have time to scream.

In a flash of light, Diamonds Droog is gone.

Jane slumps forward, and you catch her quickly in your arms.  Her skin has taken on a pale, almost ashen, color.  She’s perspiring heavily, but you feel goosebumps on her skin.  You’re no expert on human anatomy and physiology, but you can tell that Jane is in bad shape.

“Jane, you got Roxy’s killer.  Diamonds was the one that did it,” you tell her seriously. “You can stop now.”

Weakly, she shakes her head.  “I know but—I have to stop them all.  The world won’t be safe—until they’re ALL gone,” she says, pausing to breathe deeply in between phrases.

“Much as I hate to interrupt, might I point out that there’s no floor below us anymore?” Hal says.  “And there might be a giant dragon-vampire-demon-fire-fight going on a few floors below us.”

Finally, you look behind you.

Hal is the only thing keeping you and Jane suspended in mid-air where the floor used to be.  The entire condo that you fell into is demolished, as are several floors below.  There are scorch marks on the remaining structures, which you now notice are swaying far more than a building should be swaying in the breeze.  The remnant fire is still burning the walls, and you feel the heat from the flames below you.

“At the rate we’re going, I’d say we have about 7.492 minutes to finish this up before the place is leveled,” Hal assesses.

Below, Terezi roars loudly and swipes her claws at Spades, demolishing yet another wall.

“—make that 6.339 minutes,” Hal adjusts.

“Let’s get down there,” you decide quickly.  As Hal brings you down for a much smoother descent than you made falling, you look at Jane and say, “last time I’ll ask.  Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she says with steadfast determination.

Hal is about to place you on the floor when a large swipe of Latula’s tail knocks out the ground, causing both dragons, Spades, and Porrim to all fall down yet another floor.  Unshaken, Hal drops down another floor and places you on the ground.  While you hold Jane steady on her feet, you turn to him and say, “Cronus and Kankri—”

Hal shakes his head.  “It’s too late for them.  We have to keep going.”

Solemnly, you nod and turn your attention to the fight ahead.  This is it.  This is the last one.

Like Diamonds, Spades looks relatively unscathed.  He’s much faster than Terezi, Latula, and Porrim, and he’s making that known.  You narrow your eyes when you realize that he’s toying with them.  He catches your gaze and smirks.

“Finally decided ta join da fight ‘eh?” Spades asks, moving away from the dragons in a blur of movement.  Half a second later, he’s standing next to you. “I tell ya, dis fight was gettin’ so borin’!  So I brought it ta youse!”

A loud thunderous sound of twisting metal and falling cement crashes somewhere above you.  A second later, a large piece of flaming wreckage falls nearby, quickly catching the wooden floor on fire.

You don’t have time for his games.  Spades slick has to go down _now._

After setting Jane on the ground, you slash at Spades with your katana.  He dodges aside quickly.

“Dat was such a cute thing ya did back dere, tryin’ ta save youse brother,” Spades comments, parrying your attacks with a pair of knives.  “Too bad he’s gonna die.”

“Actually, he’s _not_ gonna die,” you snarl back at him, taking an especially hard swing at him.

Even though Spades manages to block it, the force of your swing knocks him hard into the wall.

You’re quick to flashstep over to him and swipe the knives out of his hands with your katana, leaving his hands empty and bleeding.  “He’s going to _live_ , and so is Jake.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Strider,” he says, grinning despite being buried literally in the wall.  “Dere’s only _one_ way outta where we sent dem.”

“I know,” you say, your voice lowering into a deep menacing growl.  “Dirk won’t let Lord English have his way.  He’s going to save the world.”

“Ya sound awfully confident,” Spades remarks lowly.  “Didn’t youse mudder ever teach ya that overconfidence makes ya—”

Suddenly, you feel a sharp burning sensation in your abdomen.  You gasp, realizing that Spades had somehow slipped out _another_ knife from somewhere while you were talking.  That knife is now currently jammed into your stomach.  A second later, you feel another jab of pain, this time in your left leg.  Another knife.

“—careless,” Spades finishes, taking advantage of your distraction to dislodge himself from the wall.  He leaves the knives in your body and dances away in a blur of movement.

You wince, grabbing first the knife in your leg and removing it.  While you’re working on removing the knife in your chest, you see Hal step in and take your place fighting Spades.  Hal fights with a technique that is a little different than yours, but it’s efficient.  He certainly gives Spades a run for his money, but it’s clear that even with all of the advancements Derse has to offer, he won’t be able to win.

Terezi, Latula, and Porrim work their way back into the fray. Most of the floor is on fire now, and the five battle between the flames.  Watching Spades, Hal, and Porrim dodge swipes of Terezi and Latula’s tails and claws is like something out of Jake’s action movies.  You don’t doubt that if you could film this for Jake, he would watch it over again and again.

“ _Technically, I’m recording everything you see_ ,” Hal reminds you in your shades.  “ _You can always show him later_.”

Right, you can.  But you have more important things to be thinking about right now.

Like Jane.  She’s coughing from the smoke in the air, and the fire is surrounding everything at a quick pace.  Really, she’s in no condition to even think about stabbing Spades with her trident.

But somehow you’ve got to make it happen.  You feel the wound on your leg closing, and you waste no more time jumping back in.

Your clothes are not fireproof, but that’s the least of your concerns.  You’re an incubus so you lost your shame long ago.  You could think of far worse outcomes than ending this battle completely nude.

For a couple minutes, the five of you are not in synch at all.  It’s difficult dodging Terezi, Latula, and Hal while trying to fight Spades.  But quickly, Hal starts reading your thoughts and adjusts his motions accordingly.  Terezi, Latula, and Porrim begin working less to attack Spades and more to trap him, leaving you free to give this fight everything you’ve got.

Finally, Latula and Terezi’s tails come down hard on either side of Spades.  The floor cracks from the pressure, and you’re all falling again.  For a fleeting second, you think about Jane.  Immediately, Hal picks up on your thought and hurries to catch her.

When Spades hits the ground, you follow him, stabbing your katana through his chest and pinning him to the ground.

You’ve done this before.  Your mind flashes back to long ago, the first time you ever fought Spades Slick. 

Bro sent you and Jake to an address far away where Spades was entering the world through a little girl’s nightmares.  Jake obviously knew him, but at the time, you had no idea how deep and terrible the history between the two of them was.  You had no idea what Spades Slick was capable of doing or just how ruthless he was, even with his own body.

You pinned him to the ground just like this, but you made the mistake of looking away from him.  In the short few seconds you took to look at Jake, he used your own blade to cut through himself and escape.

You won’t make that mistake again.

Taking the two knives you painfully acquired a few minutes ago, you plunge one through his left hand and the other through his right foot, using his own weapons to pin him to the ground.

Spades roars in fury.  Then he cackles in a way that is even more deranged than Diamonds.  “Youse think dis is it?  Do ya?  _DO YA_???”

“Yes, for you, this is,” Jane says solemnly.  Then, using the remainder of her strength, she plunges her trident through Spades’ chest, pinning him further to the ground with her three prongs.  More debris crashes down beside you, and the flames circle around you dangerously.  Jane wastes no time beginning her holy incantations.

“Dis ain’t da end!  I just STARTED tormentin’ youse!” Spades insists, laughing and coughing up blood at the same time.  “Yer wrong, Strider.  Ain’t NOTHING dat can stop Lord English!  Once he’s back—”

“I can stop Lord English, or did you forget that already?” You murmur lowly.

Spades laughs, “I never forget, but ya ain’t yer bro—”

“I _am_ ,” you say before he can finish.  Kneeling down low next to Spades, you tear off your shades and face him with your orange eyes.  Your faces are so close together that you can smell his vile breath and feel the evil essence radiating off him.  “ _I_ am the one you sent away with Jake earlier tonight.  _I_ am the one who will face and defeat Lord English twice.  And _I_ will be the one who kills Lord English forever!”

“Y-yer DIRK?!” Spades roars, his eyes wide.

“Damara never told you?” you murmur, a small grim smirk tugging at your lips.  “Don’t tell me you have trust issues.”

The holy swords from Jane’s incantation surround Spades, and the air becomes charged with an overwhelming amount of holy energy.  Despite your immunity, it is so strong that it makes your skin tingle and your eyes burn.  Spades must be in agony.

“YER DIRK STRIDER?!!!” He screams, completely ignoring your question.

The light surrounding him grows brighter and more vivid.

“FUCK YA DIRK STRIDER!!!! I’LL END YA DIRK STRIDER!!!!” Spades screams.

He’s still screaming your name as he disappears forever in a flash of blinding light.

“No thanks,” you comment wryly. “That’s Jake’s job.”

You don’t have time to bask in your victory.  Hal catches Jane as she falls forward.  Looking at her, she looks even worse than before.  Her skin is paper white, and her breathing is rapid and shallow.  Her eyes are half-lidded, and her hands are twitching unnaturally.

Hal picks up her trident and says, “we’d better get outta here.  Any second now this place is gonna—”

Like horrible clockwork, the grinding sound of metal creaks above you, and a large section of the floors above falls down to yours.  Bathtubs, dressers, walls, refrigerators.  You flashstep back as it comes crashing down between you and Hal.  You steady yourself as the building suddenly lurches unhealthily to the right. 

You’ve lost sight of Hal, but you think to him quickly “ _get Jane out of here!  I’ll take the stairs and meet you!_ ”

You’ve already flash-stepped to the emergency exit stairs when you hear Hal’s voice in your head.  “ _Dude, jumping out a window is a better idea than stairs!_ ”

But there aren’t any windows for you to jump out.  The emergency exit stairs are surrounded on all sides by concrete, and as far as you can tell, they’re still intact.

You put everything you’ve got into flashstepping down the stairs faster than you have ever flashstepped before.  You feel the floor rumbling below your feet the entire time.

About half-way down, the dust catches up to you from the crumbling floors above.  Then, pieces of the floors above you begin to crack through, assaulting you from above.

But there’s no backing out now.  You’re stuck in this cement stairway and all you can do is _run_.

You’re on the last flight when all the rubble from the floors above finally crashes on top of you.

The sound of your own voice is in your ears as you jump for the emergency exit door.

You fall outside along with several giant chunks of concrete, a dishwasher, a broken TV, and a half-eaten frozen pizza.  As the building collapses down, the force of the impact pushes you forward, skinning you along the asphalt of the road.

Your whole body is in pain, and suddenly you can’t see.  Dust from the building has filled the air, completely blocking your view.

You’re really starting to get tired of not being able to see things tonight.

A couple minutes later, the rumbling of the crashing building has stopped.  The pain in your limbs begins to recede as your body starts healing itself.

The dust begins to settle, and you find that Hal and Jane are in a park nearby, safely out of the way.  You quickly make your way over there.  Jane is lying on the grass beneath a large sweeping weeping willow tree, and Hal is kneeling beside her.

Hal looks up at you and shakes his head, “I warned you about stairs, Bro.”

“You did _not_ just reference one of Dave’s shitty ass comics,” you say flatly.

“Hey, _you’re_ the one that reads them.  I have no choice. I’m always on your face,” Hal counters.

“Sounds dirty,” you murmur.

“It is,” he agrees. “Wanna make it dirtier?”

“No,” you respond. “How’s Jane?”

“Not good,” Hal admits, frowning and looking back down at her.  “Aside from some minor smoke inhalation, she’s not hurt.  But her life is ebbing away from her.  I’d estimate that she only has 2.55 minutes left at most.”

You frown, kneeling down beside your fallen friend.  Gently, you murmur, “Jane, can you hear me?”

“Nnn… Dirk?” she murmurs blearily.

A little surprised, you poke into her thoughts.  You’re certain that she heard you tell Spades who you were, but that’s not why she called you Dirk.

Jane’s really confused right now.  She’s dying, and she thinks you’re her old friend.

You guess in a way you are.

You can hear the metaphorical grandfather clock of her life ticking down to its last few beats.

You smile grimly and take her hand, clasping it gently between your own. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“You and Jake didn’t die.  You made it.  I’m—glad,” she murmurs softly.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” you reply quietly. “And now that you took out the Midnight Crew, the world will be fine too.”

“Heh, they sure got—what was coming to them—!  Hoo hoo!”  Jane chuckles, and it’s such a weak half-hearted version of her old self that your soul wrenches with sadness.

“Yeah, you showed ‘em what’s for!”  You say, forcing a lightheartedness that you don’t feel at all into your voice.

“You sound—like Jake,” Jane murmurs.  She smiles lightly and chuckles again.  “Is he—ok?”

“Yeah, Jake’s fine,” you assure her, even though you don’t really know that yourself. 

“Good,” she says quietly. “Dirk, take care of him—ok?  You two—I can tell you two—belong together.”

You hear Jane’s breathing becoming more and more shallow, and you feel her lifeforce receding from her body.

“Dirk—I think—this is it,” she sighs softly.  “You’ve been such—a good friend.  Goodbye—Dirk…”

“Goodbye Jane,” you whisper softly.

You feel it when her heart ceases to beat.

Sighing, you bow your head in silent sadness.  You’re going to miss everything about Jane. 

Her determination.  Her keen sense of justice.  Her level-headedness.

And at the same time, you’ll miss her mirth. Her pranks.  Her baking.

You’ll miss Jane.

As you close your eyes in sadness, giving a silent eulogy to your friend, you notice something unusual happen.

The air is becoming charged with holy energy.  It’s subtle, but it’s there.

Your eyes snap open in time to see Jane’s body become translucent and fade away.

This.  You’ve seen this before.

This happened with Roxy.

Your eyes widen as they both suddenly reappear beside you.  Both of them.  Jane and Roxy.  

Roxy is standing in front of you in her full-fledged angelic form, complete with her glowing regal yellow gown and wings.  Jane is still wearing the jeans and ghost-printed gray t-shirt that she died in.  Her body is ghost-like and translucent.

“Hiya, Janey!” Roxy says, smiling brightly.  Her radiant white angelic wings flare behind her in happiness.  “I’ve been waiting so long to see you again!”

“Roxy, you’re—you’re an angel?” Jane says in disbelief.

“Yup!  And soon you will be too!” she agrees.  “Looks like your death was both heroic and just!”

“Heroic _and_ Just?  But how—” Jane murmurs.

“I hear someone put in a good word for you,” Roxy continues, winking at her.

“You?” Jane asks, touched.

“Woah now, let’s not point fingers, ok?” Roxy says.  Then, she turns to you.  “Dirk, you did it.  Congrats, you took out the big bads!”

“Not all of them,” you murmur.  “There’s still one more to go.”

“I know, but hey, I believe in you Di-Stri!” she says, reaching out with her fist.  When you bump her back, she adds, “Hey, now that you’ve got immunity to holy, we can hang out again!  And once you take out Lord English, I’ll have time again!  I miss whooping your ass in Halo!”

“You’re out of practice, Ro-Lal,” you say, grinning back at her.  “I could beat you with my eyes shut.”

“You wound me. Terrible awful wounds,” Roxy says, pretending to clutch her heart.  “Anyway, we’ll talk more later, k?  I’ve got to help this pretty lady cross over.”

“Pretty?” Jane says, a slight flush rising to her cheeks.

“You heard me, beautiful,” Roxy says, turning to her again.  She holds out her hands to the other girl imploringly.  Her expression softens, and her voice takes on a more serious tone.  “Jane, on behalf of Feferi, ruler of Prospit, I hereby invite you to join the angels of Prospit.  It will be your responsibility to protect the world from the demons of Derse.  Do you accept?”

Roxy leans in a little closer and mutters, “please tell me you accept Janey.  Please please pretty please!”

Jane laughs and lightly places her hands in Roxy’s.  There’s a large smile on her face as she says, “of course I accept. I’ve fought them my whole life.  Why should I stop now?”

“Fo sho, right?” Roxy says back.

“Besides, if I join the angels, then I’ll get to be with you again.  And Roxy I—I want to be with you because I—” Jane pauses, her voice catching in her throat. 

You wonder if you’re about to witness the confession Jane has been waiting forever to make.  Even without trying, you hear the panic and turmoil in Jane’s thoughts.  Knowing how important this moment is to them both, you stay silent, but you try to send her encouragement.  “ _You got this, Jane.  C’mon, you’ve got this._ ”

“Oh fiddlesticks!  I’m—I’m not backing out now!”  Tears well in Jane’s eyes, and when she says the next few words, her voice is shaken with emotion.  “ _Roxy, I love you._ ”

Roxy beams.  Like, literally, she’s glowing with bright white holy energy.  Lightly, she squeezes Jane’s hands and says, “I’ve been waiting forever to hear you say that.  Janey, I love you too.”

The blindingly bright energy travels down Roxy’s arms to their joined hands, and then passes up Jane’s hands to encompass her entire body.  She gasps as the light surrounds her.

It’s so bright that you literally can’t see her.  For the fourth time tonight, you can’t see.  What the actual fuck?

But finally, the bright light recedes, and your vision returns.  When you can finally see them again, you can’t help but smile.  A manly Strider smile.

Jane and Roxy are kissing.  Their lips are gently interlocked, and their arms are circled around each other. They are both decked out in the same flowing golden garments of Prospit’s angels, complete with wings that have flared up and out, showing the elated emotion they are both sharing.

You think the wings suit them both well.  If you’d have been told a thousand years ago that two of your best friends would end up becoming angels, you’d have told that person to go fuck off.  But now you couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Their kiss breaks and Roxy looks fondly into Jane’s eyes.  “Are you ready to go home?”

Jane nods, a radiant smile still on her face.  “Absolutely.”

The air begins to fill again with a holy energy, and both of them become encased in a circle of light.  They become translucent again, and when the light recedes, they are both gone.

You’re left standing with Hal in a dark park.

“Lesbian angels.  You don’t see that everyday,” Hal comments.  “Not that it was a big surprise.  Bet it’s about to get hot and steamy up in Prospit.”

“Hal, how are we the same person?” you grumble.

“We’re not,” he reminds you.

“How are we _almost_ the same person?” you amend.

“You’re an incubus,” Hal replies thoughtfully.  “And I’m blunt as hell.”

You sigh, long and deep.  It’s not just a sigh at Hal’s comment.  It’s a sigh that expresses your fatigue after the entire night’s events.

You killed the Midnight Crew, but at what cost?

Tonight you lost two brothers and three of your dearest friends.  Tonight you failed to change the timeline.

Kankri and Cronus, after years of mental and physical healing in Derse, might finally find the strength to return.  And you suppose that you might get the chance to see Jane and Roxy sometime on Prospit, now that you can safely go there.

But Bro and Dirk are another story.  You’ll never get them back.

But you should be getting somebody else back tonight.  Someone you’ve been waiting a thousand years for.

“Jake,” you murmur out loud.

Slowly, you turn around in a circle, as if he might spring out at you at any moment.  But you don’t see him.

You don’t even sense him, in any direction.

Suddenly, you’re filled with a sense of dread.  All of the events of this evening wash away in a blur. 

The Midnight Crew.  Barely escaping the collapsing building.  Your lesbian angel friends.

Everything becomes muted white noise in the background.

You’re filled instead with a panicked apprehension that starts in your stomach and works its way out to your fingers and toes.  Jake was supposed to come back tonight.  He should have already been back.

But even though your senses have sharpened drastically, to the point where you can feel Jake anywhere in a hundred mile radius, you can’t sense him.

You can’t sense him anywhere.

Where the _fuck_ is Jake?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over the course of writing this story, I’ve received several comments. Lots of love. Some hate. Some of you say you’re screaming and vibrating with happiness. Lots of you tell me your soul hurts and you’re crying. Some of you scream that you hate me and my writing. Some of you tell me to make this into an actual published story.
> 
> Regardless of what you think, next chapter will be the LAST chapter of Hopeless and Heartless. It may take me a while to write it, and it might be long as hell, but it will be the last. Hopefully, you will find all of the waiting and pining worth it.
> 
> As an author, I actually feel that these authors notes are jarring from the story at times, since I am (surprise surprise) not actually Dirk. Fear of repercussion has almost made me not do so many things. I think I’d like to share them with you all now, before the end. 
> 
> I was afraid that nobody would like my story or read it. I posted it anyway.
> 
> I was afraid that people would hate the fact that Dirk is Bro. I added the plot twist anyway.
> 
> I was afraid to put so much of my own heart and soul into writing this story, because it hurts when people tell me they don’t like it. But I put it in anyway.
> 
> This story is about growth, love, and overcoming impossible challenges for the sake of goals. I could have written an incubus porn story, sure. I could have brought Jake back the next chapter after he disappeared. But that wasn’t the point of this story.
> 
> If you have felt happiness, sadness, joy, anger, or anything on the rainbow spectrum of feels, trust me, I’ve felt it too. Writing this story has not been without its challenges, but I knew that going into it. I wrote it anyway.
> 
> It’s easy to focus on the bad, because it hurts us, and to forget about the good. Hopefully by the end of this story you will all feel it was worth the read in some way or another.
> 
> One last thing before what might be a long break in updating to write the final chapter. If my story or Dirk’s story can show you anything at all, please let it show you that fear is not an insurmountable obstacle. Please have the courage to follow your heart and achieve your goals without being inhibited by fear.
> 
> I truly wish that for all of you.


	31. Hope and Heart

**Bro == > Where the _fuck_ is Jake?**

_Where the fuck is he???_

You spin around again in the moonlit park, feeling your nerves, your mind, and your _everything_ exploding in a terrible sensation of panic and dread.

Hal reaches a hand out and firmly grasps your shoulder, stopping you from your spinning.  “Hey, calm down, Bro.  Making yourself sick with worry isn’t going to bring him back faster,” he says.

He’s right.

“Of course I’m right.  I’m the version of you that’s actually _thinking_ straight right now,” Hal remarks wryly.  “Don’t forget, I love Jake too.”

You glare at him sharply.

Sensing your stab of anger, he holds his hands up quickly.  “Geez, dude, settle _down_ a little!  Jake’s all yours, ok?  I love a lot of other people too.  That happens when you’ve lived as long as I have.”

You don’t completely buy it.

“I can tell you don’t completely buy it,” Hal reiterates carefully.  “How about this.  I’ll help you look for him.”

Your brain must be in pandemonium again, because Hal takes you by the shoulders again and pulls you into a tender hug.  You feel his arms come around you, lending you strength and support.  Before you can even register what you’re doing, your arms are around him, holding him tightly as you _try_ to process everything and _try_ to make your brain work.

“It’s ok, you’ve been the head honcho for centuries now.  It’s ok for your brain to take a break.  I’ll do the thinking for you,” he reassures you, rubbing soft circles into your back in what you have to say is a very soothing way.

He waits.  You finally settle down.

Once you’re calmer than before, he gently explains, “Jake isn’t _here_ , but that doesn’t mean he isn’t back.  Lord English’s portal didn’t have a fucking neon sign pointing ‘this way to 21 Jump Street’ or anything.  He could literally have opened that rift to anywhere on the planet.  If he knew that you would be here in The City, it actually makes sense that he wouldn’t open the rift back here.”

Slowly, you process it.  Slowly, you realize that, once again, Hal’s right.

“Of course I’m right, why is this always a shock to you?” Hal sighs.  Gently, he pulls back and says, “I’ll help you find him.  And I know all your friends will too.  Hell, even Her Fucking Imperious Condescension will probably help you.”

“She hates Jake,” you murmur.

“Whatever, you don’t need her anyway,” Hal quickly switches gears.  He looks into your eyes, and you know that he’s looking beyond your shades.  It’s creepy, but it’s like he’s staring straight into your soul.  You suppose that Hal is the closest thing to yourself that exists now.  If anyone could be capable of actually staring into your soul, it would be him.

“Can I just say that most people don’t have an actual version of themselves to mind-grind on?  You’re one of a kind, Dirk,” Hal says.  “Now then, remember that game you used to play centuries ago?  The ‘Find Jake’ game?”

Slowly, a smile comes to your lips.  You chuckle, “heh, yeah.”

Hal grins back at you.  Without a single drop of irony, he says, “time to get your game on.”

* * *

 

**Bro == > Play the Find Jake Game** 

You get your game on.  You start the Find Jake Game by finding the nearest portal to Derse.  Conveniently, though Dave’s building is destroyed, the portal to Derse is still intact high up in the air.  Hal gives you a lift with his bitchin’ rocket shoes.  He’s right, they’re way cooler than Tavros’, but you don’t have time to ponder their design just yet.

You have a Jake to find.

You arrive in the grand hallway outside the Condesce’s throne room and start working your way from portal to portal.  Each time, you step out and spin slowly around, surveying the land, sensing for Jake in every direction.

Each time you come back empty handed.

By the time you’ve worked your way down to the last few portals, you’re starting to get worried.  What if you can’t find Jake?  What then

“Worry about that if it happens,” Hal suggests.

It happens.

After stepping through the last portal, you hoped beyond all hope that you would sense that familiar emerald energy that you have come to love.

You don’t.

You fucking flip your shit in the middle of Australia.  You fall to your knees in the grass and rage at the world.

_Why?_

**_Why can’t you find him???_ **

“Because you’re too busy with your face in the dirt,” Hal grumbles at you.  “Fucking hell, Dirk, get up!”

“It’s no use.  I’ve always been able to sense him. Anywhere he traveled, I found him,” you murmur.

“Yeah, maybe in the past, when people couldn’t reach half the places they can now,” Hal points out.  “There’s still more ground to cover.  We’ll do it faster if you get off your ass and actually ask your friends for some help.”

You have to admit, he’s right.

Hal sighs, “of course I am.”

* * *

 

**Bro == > Ask your friends for help!** 

You do.  Shockingly, you find them all gathered around the burnt remains of Haven.  It didn’t take you long to search Derse’s portals, and you would guess that they’ve only been there for about an hour.

The smell of Haven’s burnt remains still hangs in the air, though the fire is long gone. Unsurprisingly, half of the city block burnt down with Haven before someone graced the burning buildings with a very localized downpour.  If you had to guess, Feferi had something to do with the salvation of a giant chunk of the city.

Yeah, now that you think about it, burning down Haven just might not have been your most shining idea.  Whatever.  It’s in the past.

Terezi and Latula have returned to their human forms.  They are watching over Kanaya, Porrim, and Karkat, who are sitting against the brick building across the street and slowly recovering.  Tavros and Rufioh are sitting on the pavement nearby, looking slightly uncomfortable at the dour and somber mood everyone is in. 

You imagine that this must be the equivalent of sitting around a bunch of abstinent asexuals for an incubus like you.

You and Hal take a seat on the concrete pavement beside them.  One by one, they seem to realize that you’re there, and they look to you imploringly.  They all seem a bit worse for wear, and you have to say that you’re not quite the most chipper guy either.

“The Midnight Crew is gone,” you update them somberly.  “But it was not without cost.  Kankri and Cronus have returned to Derse.  Jane is gone too.”

You hear gasps from a few of them at the news.

“She passed on to Prospit, where she and Roxy are now both angels,” you continue.

For a few moments, everyone sits in silence, fully absorbing this information.

Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, Porrim sits up from the wall. She’s holding her chest with one hand, and you can see where her jade blood is still pouring through her fingertips.  Your first instinct is to offer her the blood in your fridge that you’d been saving for Dave, but you mentally laugh bitterly when you realize that you don’t have a fridge anymore.  Or an office.

Dave, you hope, has kept his ass put in the fairy forest.  You don’t think you can deal with him right now anyway.

“Bro, I have known you a very long time now,” she begins slowly.  “I helped you care for your brothers when they were very young.  You, Dirk, and Dave.  It was always three Strider brothers.”

You think you know where she is going with this, but you resolutely refrain from reading her thoughts.  You will wait for her to say it herself. 

“I watched as Dirk and Dave grew.  When we met again, several centuries later, I began to suspect some things, but I kept these thoughts to myself.  However, after tonight, after something you told Spades Slick, I cannot stay silent any longer,” she continues.  Slowly, she reaches forward toward your face with a slightly bloodied hand. 

You know what she wants.  You lean forward and let her take off your shades.

“Bro,” she asks softly, her eyes filled with concern but also warmth and care as she looks into your tangerine eyes.  “Are you Dirk?”

You feel the eyes of all your remaining friends on you now.  Some of them have their eyebrows raised in shock.  Others wear looks of concern.  You feel the surprised and confused feelings from all of them.  Except Hal. Smug fucker has always known.

One by one, you regard each of them.  You were never one for flowery speeches.  You never sugar coated anything for your brothers or your friends.

Why start now?

“Yeah, I am,” you respond simply.

You wait for them to start raging at you.  You’re ready to take their anger, their hatred, their outrage.  You deserve it.

But it never comes.

Instead, all you sense from them are questions.  Surprise.  Sadness.

With a deep sigh, you decide to explain it to them.  “When the Midnight Crew sent Jake and Dirk—Jake and me— through that portal tonight, they ended up in a doomed dimension.  To escape, Jake had to release Lord English—”

This makes several of them gasp again in shock.  Karkat interrupts you quickly and asks what everyone else is thinking.  “Don’t tell me Jake is that galactic asshole Lord English.”

“Jake has trapped him inside his soul,” you explain.  “To escape the doomed dimension, he let Lord English free.  Lord English took Jake and I to the past.  About 1,000 years ago.  Lord English killed my parents, but I managed to stop him.  I sent Jake back to this time, but I stayed behind to raise Dirk and Dave.”

“You raised yourself?” Latula asks, her head tilting up in question. “That is so rad!”

“You have lived all these years without ever telling your younger brothers who you are?” Kanaya asks.  You see sympathy in her eyes but also hurt.  She and Dirk grew up together for a few years.  She probably understands better than most how difficult it would be for Dirk to accept that you and he are the same person.  You have no doubt that the hurt you feel from her will only be multiplied a hundred times when you tell Dave.

“Yes,” you concede.  “And now, I cannot find Jake.”

You pause for a moment, and you’re ashamed to say that your own emotions are out of check right now.  Just thinking about Jake and the possibility of never having him back makes you wrought with sadness and worry.

“I know that several of you are gravely injured.  You didn’t abandon me when Kurloz Makara mind-controlled me months ago.  Some of you died, but you were not deterred.  And tonight, you fought so hard against the Midnight Crew.  I never expected any of this from you,” you murmur.  “Though I know several of you are severely wounded, I hope I can ask one last favor of you.  One more thing, and I’ll never ask anything of you again.”

You glance up, slowly looking each of them in the eyes.  Imploringly, you say, “please, when you are able, help me find Jake.”

Porrim is the first to come forward.  Though she is exhausted and injured, she slides her arms around you and hugs you tightly.  “Of course we will help.”

Kanaya is next. Then Terezi and Latula.  Rufioh, Tavros, and Hal have no reservations about throwing their arms around you too.  Karkat sighs and mumbles something about this being “super gay” but eventually joins your group hug.

Surrounded by the love of your friends, your spirits are lifted by the warmth of their positivity.  With them by your side, you know that you can do this.

You can find Jake.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Get more help!** 

You want to. But you really don’t want your friends dying either, and since you thought ahead so well, you can’t even bring them inside Haven to rest up.  Instead, you help them back to your penthouse condo not too far away, where you have more than enough space for them all. Most of them are demons, and you know that eventually they will heal up just fine. 

Tavros, Rufioh, Terezi, and Latula all came out of the battle relatively unscathed, and they will set out to help you with the search in the morning. Kanaya and Karkat are doing mostly ok, though Karkat is crushed when he hears the news of his cousin’s death.  Though Karkat puts on a brave front, you know that he must have time to grieve properly before anything.  Porrim is in the worst shape.  When you see her wounds, you realize just how cruel Diamonds was to her. It’s tough, but you have to remind yourself that she is a vampire, and that after she feeds she will be all right.

Hal is A-ok.  He leaves with you for Derse when you decide to enlist the help of someone you know all too well.

“Why you comin’ to _me_ for help?” the Condesce asks when you show up in her throne room.  “You know I want nothin’ to do with English.  Lord or Jake.”

“Because I can’t live without him,” you answer, feeling like you’ve never spoken more truthful words.

“He’s not lying,” Hal backs you up.

The Condesce glares at Hal, then regards you with a silent stormy look.  She leans over, resting the side of her chin on the knuckles of her closed fist as she sits in silent deliberation for several minutes.  You and Hal both stand there awkwardly as she does.  After quite some time, she finally sighs, “I’m afraid I can’t help you much.”

She’s decided to help.  A part of you is immediately relieved, but another part of you recognizes just what she said. 

“In the past, you always knew where Lord English was,” you counter quickly.  “Why can’t you find him now?”

“Lord English is a towering evil demon.  Kind of hard to miss the mothafucka.  But Jake?” the Condesce sighs.  “Do you know how many people in Shanghai alone look like him?”

Probably a lot. 

Jake is unique to you.  You can sense his energy from miles away.  You cultivated that skill for centuries. But to everyone else, he’s just another person.  You suddenly realize how difficult this search is going to be, even with the help of Derse’s queen.

“But I will help you,” she finally concedes quietly.  “If my demons see him, I will know.”

“Thank you,” you murmur softly.  “I appreciate this.”

The Condesce remarks wryly, “a taken Strider is better than no Strider.”

You realize a moment later what she means by that statement.  She doesn’t want you to die.  She cares about you.  You start to wonder if maybe Her Imperious Condescension isn’t a complete sociopath.

“Now get outta my sight before I kill you both,” she says, waving her hand at you dismissively.

Then again, maybe she is.

Your chat with her sister Feferi goes much smoother.  You discovered several portals to Prospit long ago, though you avoided using them for obvious reasons.  Now that you are immune to holy, the land is no longer off-limits.

You don’t see any sign of Roxy or Jane, but you suppose that Prospit is a large place.  Feferi smiles brightly when you ask for her help, and informs you that she’s already been looking for Jake.  She might also give the task to a couple of angels who are more familiar with Jake.  You grin, knowing that Roxy and Jane will definitely have your back.

Feferi advises you to ask one last person for help.  Someone you had actually worked with before.

After everything, you arrive at the edge of the fairy forest.  You sigh, knowing exactly who is inside.  Yes, the king of the fairies is who you really came to see.  With his ability to sense souls, he can probably give you the best direction.  But you know who is also in this forest.

Dave.  Your little bro.  The only one you’ve got now.

And sooner or later, Dave will have to know the truth.

“You can bring it up later,” Hal suggests.  “Dave’s probably a little _distracted_ right now anyway, if you catch my drift.”

“Dave needs to know,” you decide, sighing with regret.  “Now is probably a better time than any.  I taught Dave not to show his emotions and feelings to anybody, and he won’t with most.  With John, he will.  It’s better to tell him now, while he and his boyfriend are the same size.  John will comfort him.”

John’s dad greets you when you reach the lake in the center of the forest and brings you and Hal both down to his size.  He insists that you stay for tea and a bite of cake while you talk.

“So I hear you’ve been up all night, Bro,” the king of the fairies comments as the three of you sit down in his study for a bite of cake.  Hal is even eating the cake and drinking the tea, making you think he must have done something to enhance himself while you weren’t looking again.

“ _I have a small fusion reactor in my stomach now.  I can actually eat the food for energy.  Might be a little bit radioactive though_ ,” Hal informs you through your shades.

Holy fuck you hope he’s kidding.

Hal doesn’t answer.  Fucking damn it.

“It’s been a long night,” you agree, finally responding to Dad’s comment.

“You know, I stayed up all night too,” he says.

Oh no.  It’s a Dad-Joke.  You can sense it.

“I stayed up wondering where the sun went,” the king of the fairies continues.  “Then it dawned on me!”

You smirk at him.  You’re actually starting to be amused with his cliché sense of humor.  Something about Dad and his stupid jokes is actually a little bit comforting.  You feel as if the situation last night isn’t an insurmountable obstacle anymore.  You feel like everything will be ok. 

But you’re still a sarcastic asshole, and you respond to him, “sorry to break it to you, but the sun’s not up yet.”

“My son is,” he says, changing the meaning of the words so quickly that you’re actually a little impressed.  “So is your younger brother.”

You catch the slight unease that comes off the fairy king, and you watch him carefully, waiting for him to elaborate on that.  When he finally does, it’s not quite in the way you expected.

“When my wife knew she was with child, she told me ‘honey, I’m pregnant.’”  John’s dad says, fond reminiscence in his expression.  He looks up at you, and there are tears of joy welling in the corners of his eyes. “Do you know what I said?”

You know it’s set-up, but for the life (or death) of you, you can’t figure out what it could be.  “No, what did you say?”

“I put a hand over her belly and said ‘hello pregnant, I’m Dad.’”

It’s so cheesy.  It’s so corny.  It’s so _Dad._

Something about that Dad-Joke makes you suddenly realize something. 

“I’m not the only one who calls you Dad, am I?” you ask slowly.  “John aside.”

The king of the fairies smiles knowingly and shakes his head.

“Does _anyone_ actually know your real name?”

“A few of the older fairies,” the king admits.  “But even they call me Dad.”

How did you never notice this?

“The point is,” he says, gently setting his empty cake plate to the side.  “I see all my people as my children.  I feel a strong need to protect them, and when they accomplish something, I am so very proud of them.”

Somehow, this doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“At first, I was distrustful of Dave,” the fairy king admits.  “We spoke about this.  But over time, I have seen how much my son loves that boy, and how much he loves him back.  I have never minded shrinking Dave down to John’s size so they can enjoy each other’s company.  What they choose to do behind closed doors is their own business.”

You’re actually a little surprised to hear that from the king of the fairies.  It’s incredibly progressive for a culture that walls itself off from society.

“But now I see Dave as my son too.  I see how hard he works and how much of himself he puts into loving John.  And I am so very proud of him,” Dad says, a small happy smile on his face.  “And you, I see you as my son as well.”

“Woah now,” you begin.

“Hear me out on this one,” the fairy king says, raising his hand disarmingly and chuckling lightly.  “I see you as my son. I’ve seen all the work you put into protecting this realm, and it is so very admirable.  I am more than just proud of you.  I look up to you, you know.  I wish that I could have the courage and strength to do what you do.  What John does every day working for you.”

Dad reaches out and lightly places a hand on your shoulder in a very fatherly way.  “Bro, on behalf of the fairies of this forest and everyone in this mortal realm, I would like to thank you for everything you have done.”

You really aren’t used to praise like this.  Bro was never one to shower you with compliments.  The Condesce would sooner bite your head off than praise you.  You wish you were kidding.  “Thanks?” you murmur weakly.

“You are welcome,” he says calmly, looking past your shades and into your eyes. “Now, Bro, I can sense when someone’s soul is not at rest.  You know that.  I have known for quite some time that yours is torn, and today it feels more torn than ever.  I trust that is why you have come to see me. I gladly offer my services to repay you for your sacrifices.  What can I do for you?”

For some reason, you’re finding it increasingly difficult to ask Dad for help.  There is a small clinking sound as Hal places his plate on the coffee table beside you.  You glance over at him, but he fixes you with a look that tells you this is your problem.

“Dad,” you murmur quietly.  “Please help me find Jake.”

“Jake English?” Dad questions softly.  “I wondered why you never told that boy the truth sooner.”

You feel the stillness of the room acutely.  Your lack of a heartbeat and breath.  The machinery of Hal’s body and (fucking damn it he _does_ have a fusion reactor inside him now that you’re listening for it).  The slow, steady beat of Dad’s heart.

Dad knows.  He’s always known.

“How—how did you—,” you trip over your words with disbelief.

“Souls are what I do, remember?” The fairy king says gently.  “I could tell as soon as I met Dirk that his soul was the same as yours.  It’s all right.  As a father and a king, I understand why you made the decisions you did.  I can’t say that I completely understand how you came to raise yourself, but—”

“Lord English,” you offer quietly.  “Time loop.”

“Ah, that explains it,” he nods, as if it makes perfect sense to him now.  It probably does.  “In any event, I know how hard your life must have been.  I understand, and I will help you find Jake.”

You are so happy you could hug him and cry.  But you don’t, you’re too cool for that.  Instead, you smile at him lightly and say, “thank you.”

“We’ll get started in the morning,” Dad suggests patting your shoulder once more and letting you go.  He’s already walking out the room as he says, “why don’t you spend the night here and maybe have a little chat with Dave.  I’ll distract John for you.”

After the fairy king leaves the room, you turn to Hal.  “Think I’ve gotta do this one on my own.”

Hal gestures to the doorway.  “All yours.  Trust me, I’ve had more than enough experience entertaining myself.”

You don’t want to think about what Hal means by that.

“Exactly what you think I mean,” Hal smirks at you.  Then, he indicates towards the bookshelves in the study.  “But I’m also not missing out on this chance to catch up on fairy literature.”

You leave Hal to it.

You sense for Dave’s presence and follow it through the castle to a hallway in a secluded tower.  You’re certain that this isn’t where they spent their first night together.  That was in the guest hallway.  This wing has rooms that are far larger.  You’re certain that this is John’s room.

You find the king of the fairies outside a door, a shit-eating grin on his face.  “What could be so important that you don’t have a few moments to spare with your dear old Dad?”

“DAD!” John shouts through the door.  “That is—can’t you just—come back later?”

“Son, it’s been too long since we’ve had a heart-to-heart,” the fairy king croons.  “I need to talk to you.”

“UGH!!!”  John groans loudly through the door.  “FINE.”

You hear the telltale sound of shuffling in the room.  Clothing being hastily jostled around and thrown on.  The sheets of the bed quickly being thrown back into place.

A minute later, John emerges from the room, looking flustered and annoyed.  His hair is always a mess, but you would swear that it’s a bit _untidier_ than usual.  “Ok Dad, I’m here.  What do you have to—” John looks up and suddenly notices that you’re standing there.  For some reason, that makes him blush even more furiously.  Probably because he knows that you are 100% aware of what was happening in that room.  “B-Bro?”

“That’s me,” you agree.

“Bro’s here?” Dave says, suddenly appearing at the doorway.  He looks at you and frowns.  “Why are you here?”

“Aww, I love you too, lil’ man!” you grin, pulling him into a hug.  You’re playing it up for Dave, but you’re also so fucking happy to see him.  You haven’t lost all of your brothers.  You’ve still got Dave, whether he likes it or not.

“Mmmph!!!” Dave protests into your armpit, where you’ve smushed his face.

Meanwhile, Dad is already guiding John down the hallway.  “Son, we have so much to talk about.”

You’re left standing alone with Dave in the hallway.  Silently, you usher him inside the room and shut the door.

Yep.  It smells like sex in here.  You choose not to point out that little detail. 

John’s room is nothing short of huge.  The ceilings are vaulted and come to the fairy equivalent of three stories up off the floor.  His bed is larger than any you have ever seen and is actually draped with gossamer lining that hangs from the ceiling high above and billows out by some unseen magical force.  Leave it to fairies to use fucking magic on their beds.

In his room, John has a desk, a few armoires, several mysterious chests, a fine oaken table with plush chairs, and sinfully soft rugs that cover the finely polished wooden floor.  He even has his own personal in-ground bathtub/Jacuzzi, separated from the rest of the room by the same gossamer fabric as the bed.  Aside from the smell of sex, there is a faint sweet scent that you have come to associate with fairies lingering in the room.

You wonder what Dave thinks of it.  But you don’t wonder enough to ask.  Or even read his mind about it.

Dave looks at you with a disgruntled expression and sighs, “so what was so important that you interrupted the one shot I’ll have all week at boning my boyfriend?  Or are you just that much of an asshole?  ‘Cause I’d believe that.”

“Chill Dave, you can have all the time you want to fuck John. I don’t really care anymore,” you tell him.  The tone of your voice must be different than usual, because Dave raises his eyebrows curiously at you.  For once, he doesn’t say anything.  He must be _that_ interested in what you have to say. “I burnt Haven to the ground, so what you choose to do is your own deal now.”

“You what?” Dave asks, the shock and surprise clear in his voice.

“Anyway that’s not important.  Dave, there’s something very serious I have to tell you,” you say.

“More important than burning down the place you’ve spent your whole life building,” Dave asks slowly. “Dish it out to me, Bro, ‘cause I’m all fucking ears.”

“I wouldn’t recommend fucking ears.  It’s uncomfortable and messy,” you caution him offhandedly.  Saying shit like this to Dave is second nature to you now, and you’re really not even thinking about what you’re saying.  You’re busy trying to think of how to drop the big news to your little bro. 

You never really thought about how you should phrase this, and here, standing in front of your younger brother now, you still don’t know.  So you go with the usual method.  Tried and true. 

You don’t sugar coat.  You don’t euphemize.  You dish it out to Dave like it is.

“Dirk is gone,” you inform him simply.  “He went back into the past with Jake last night.  He’s never coming back, because I’m Dirk.  I have been all these years.”

Dave doesn’t miss a beat.

“Wow congrats, Bro, your irony levels are off the charts,” Dave says. “They’re tangible like a giant blob of play dough. I could take it and make a fucking trophy, have it bronzed and engraved in gold, and give it to you, because you are the ironic champion.  It is you.”

“Dave, I’m not being ironic this time,” you try to tell him.

“Party streamers and little hats with the tassels.  I’m getting them for everyone tonight because we’re celebrating your new rise in the levels of irony.”

“Dave,” you attempt again.

“Dancing bears, a party must,” he continues.  “This shit’s gonna be so epic you’ll go up another level. Fuck, we’ll all go up a level.”

“Dave, shut up!” you growl, pulling him closer to you by his shoulder.  Seeing that he just isn’t understanding, you rip off your shades and his, revealing your respective orange eyes and red eyes to each other.  You don’t put him under your influence, but when you look into his eyes, you find that tiny bit of suggestion you placed in his mind as a baby.  That small bit that always told him _you were Bro_.

You remove it.

Dave blinks at you, and you watch the pupils in his eyes suddenly widen and then constrict.  “F-fuck—what the hell, Bro?  What’d you just—agh!  Fuck!”  He tears away from your grasp and turns around, pressing his palms to his eyes.

Outside, Dave is standing still.  He isn’t moving.  He isn’t crying.  He isn’t shaking or making any sound or _anything_.  Dave is still as the grave.

But inside, you hear the chaos within your baby brother’s mind.  You hear his confusion, his anger, and his sadness at the loss of Dirk.  It all whirls through him at astronomical speed.  Just when you think he might be coming out of it, it starts again.

“Fucking _damn it_ , Bro!”  Dave finally growls.  “Both of you with the Strifes.  That stupid obsession with ‘plush rumps.’  Those goddamn Smuppets—!”

You wait, letting Dave’s mind settle down.  It takes him a surprisingly long time.

Finally, he growls again and groans, “Can’t—unsee!”

As he finally begins to calm his shit, you slowly come up behind him and hug him.  It’s nothing like the hug you gave him a few minutes ago.  Wrapping your arms tightly around him, you feed him your warm loving energy.  You send him calming, reassuring, positive feelings.  “Hey, I know it sucks right now, but it’s gonna be all right.  Trust me.”

“How can I trust you?” Dave demands.  “You’ve lied to me my whole life!”

“Yeah, I did,” you agree.  “But I couldn’t tell Dirk either.  Don’t you think I wanted to?”

Dave is, miraculously, silent.  He eventually sighs, leaning into your embrace and taking on calmness as he absorbs your energy into himself.  Finally, he speaks again, in a quiet and defeated tone.  “I miss Dirk.  I fuckin’ miss him, Bro. This fuckin’ sucks.”

“I miss him too,” you remark quietly.  “But that doesn’t mean you have to.”

“What do you even fuckin’ mean?” Dave asks.

“I mean, I have all of Dirk’s memories.  _I’m Dirk_ ,” you respond meaningfully and far more gently than you ever do with Dave.  “And I’m still here for you, Dave.  I’ll always be here for you.”

You can’t see his face, but you think Dave is crying. 

You hold your baby brother for a long time, gently sending him your love and assurance that everything will be ok.

Sometime later, the door cracks open, and a weary looking John walks back in.  He takes one look at Dave and shakes the sleepiness off, flying swiftly into his arms.  You’re quick to let go of Dave as he reaches out for his boyfriend, pulling the fairy close.

Without another word, you exit the room, leaving the two alone.

The fairy king is waiting for you.  He regards you calmly and says, “I’m proud of you.”  Then he takes you to a guestroom.

You fall onto the bed and into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Find Jake!** 

You wake up the next morning ready to DO this.  You’re on a mission.  A Jake finding mission.

Surprisingly, Dave seems all right the next morning.  You can sense that he’s still not completely over losing Dirk, but he’s functional again.  “We’re helping you find Jake,” he informs you as you leave the forest.  “John’s dad filled him in.”

The king of the fairies himself leaves with you, ready to begin the search.  As you exit the forest, the Condesce walks up beside you, as if she was always there.  “Neither me or my sis found anythin’ last night.  Seems Jake’s somewhere demons don’t go.  And if Fef didn’t find anthin’, he’s not by people either.  Happy huntin’.”  With that, she opens a temporary Derse portal in front of her and vanishes.

Dave blinks at you.  “Seriously, how were you dating _that_ for a thousand years?”

“You and Dirk had to eat, didn’t you?” you throw back at him.

Dave stiffens when he hears Dirk’s name, but he doesn’t say anything.

When you arrive back at your condo, everyone is in much better shape than before.  Rufioh and Tavros have started up no less than five different games on different gaming systems on different TVs through your place.  Karkat’s arm looks fully healed.  He’s currently playing a round of Tetris with Tavros and swearing about the game cheating.  Porrim and Kanaya are still sleeping and healing.  They have chosen to sleep in your shoe closet, where the least amount of light will reach them.  Porrim is sleeping peacefully on top of your loafers, and it looks like her wounds have closed up. 

You know they will be fine by the evening and ready to join the search.

Without further delay, you divvy out parts of the world to your teams and begin the search.

By the end of the first week, you have collectively covered a large area but come up empty handed. 

You weren’t ready for this.  You had thought that with the most powerful beings on this dimension and others helping you, you would find him. You thought that you would be able to easily locate one guy that you had _always_ been able to find before without any trouble.

You were wrong. 

You’re laying beneath the stars in the desert with Hal by your side when Roxy and Jane come to you.

“Sorry, Di-Stri, wish I had good news for you,” Roxy sighs, sitting beside you.

Jane threads her fingers between Roxy’s and regards you with the same sad expression, “we’re trying so hard.”

“I know, I believe you,” you respond quietly.  “Jane, glad to see you’re ok.  I’m happy for you two.”

“Thank you.  Though once you find Jake, we’ll truly be happy,” Jane replies gently.

“You’re starving yourself,” Roxy says sadly, laying down beside you and pulling you into a hug.  “We won’t let you die.”

Jane lays on your other side, and as both girls curl beside you, sharing their loving energy with you through their hugs, you couldn’t find the situation more ironic. 

“ _I know.  An incubus surrounded lovingly in the most platonic way by lesbian angels,_ ” Hal thinks to you.

You don’t bother thinking a response back to him.

“Don’t give up, Dirky. You can’t stop now,” Roxy murmurs.  “You can’t.”

You won’t.  But for a little while, you do close your eyes and relax, surrounded by their love.

* * *

 

**Bro == > Don’t give up** 

A full month goes by.  You search everywhere you can, and so does everyone else.  You won’t give up, but you are beginning to lose hope.

You’re certain that Jake would have sought out civilization by now.  He’s not the type to lone around for long.  In the centuries that you followed Jake, he never spent more than a day or two alone before finding a village or a town.  Jake is drawn to people like that.  You think it may be part of the First Guardian in him.

And yet, Feferi and Betty both assure you that he has not been seen around any village or town, human or demon.  He isn’t in Prospit or Derse either.

Your friends have searched the arid planes, the mountains, and the deserts for you.  They’ve given this search their all, and you’re not really sure when it is appropriate to call it quits.

You think that even if they gave up the search, you would go on forever.  You would continue until you die.

Roxy and Jane swing by once a week to platonically hug their energy to you the same way as the first time.  You’re not sure how they know to share their energy like that, but you’re grateful to them.  You’re grateful to everyone who is supporting you.

But you know that this is taxing on your friends.  It’s a burden, and you don’t think you can bring yourself to ask this search of them much longer.

It turns out you don’t have to.  When you gather everyone together again in The City, ready to tell them they can go their own way, they stop you before you can even talk.

“We’re not giving up,” Karkat informs you bluntly.  “We’ve been on this fucking man-hunt for a month and we aren’t stopping until we find him.”

The others are quick to agree.  Dad tells you that he’s proud you haven’t given up yet.  After sharing dinner together at a local burger place, you separate to continue the search.

Seeing Karkat again makes you think of his cousin Kankri.  You feel a twinge of guilt as you realize that you had completely forgotten about Kankri and Cronus.  They literally died for you.  You have been so wrapped up in Jake that you didn’t even think about how the two of them are recovering in Derse.

You decide to make a quick stop by Derse before you continue your search.

The Condesce points you to a housing district by the sea, where you find Cronus dipping his finned feet into the dark waters.  He grins and waves as you approach.  “Heya, boss!  Wvhat’s the vword?”

“Just wanted to see how you and Kankri are doing,” you reply.  “And technically I’m not the boss anymore, remember?  Burnt Haven to the ground.”

“Right, you _did_ do that,” Cronus nods.  Slowly, he removes his feet from the water and shakes them dry.  He starts leading you up to a small house on a nearby hill.  “Don’t think I can stop callin’ ya boss, though.  Ya mind if I keep at it?”

You smile, glad to see that Cronus is doing just fine.  “Suit yourself.  How is Kankri?”

Cronus’s smile falters a little.  “He’s—never died before.  He’s not takin’ it wvell, but every day he’s a little better.”

When you walk into the bedroom, Kankri smiles weakly at you and attempts to sit up in bed.  Cronus dashes quickly to his side to help prop him up with some pillows.  “Hey, easy there, chief!  Let’s not reopen any of those vwounds nowv, ya hear?”

“I shall be fine, Cronus, thank you,” Kankri smiles at him, then returns his gaze to you.  “Bro Strider, it is good to see you again.  I trust that all is well in the mortal realm?”

“I actually don’t know,” you admit. “We’ve all been searching for Jake this past month.”

“Jake,” Kankri says, a light frown touching his lips.  “Why are you—”

Before Kankri can talk any more, you explain everything to him.  The ending of the fight.  The fate of everyone at Haven. That you’re Bro and Dirk.  That you’re madly in love with Jake and can’t live without him.

Kankri smiles sadly as you finish.  “I am sorry I cannot help you search, but Cronus—”

“I can’t leave you!” Cronus instantly exclaims from where he has cuddled beside Kankri on the bed.

Kankri pets his hair gently and says, “yes, you can.  I will be fine here.  Aranea has been so kind to us this past year, and I am certain she can handle anything I may need.”

That’s right.  Time passes differently in Derse.  One month in the mortal realm, one year in Derse.

And Kankri still isn’t completely better.  You feel terrible.

But Kankri doesn’t seem bothered at all.  He kisses Cronus lovingly and says, “you and I both know they need you.  Nobody but you can explore the oceans as well.”

With a heavy heart, Cronus leaves Kankri’s side and joins your search.  You really weren’t expecting this of him, but he insists.  It’s what Kankri wants, so it’s what he wants.

Time passes.

Your heart bears another two weeks filled with your mournful desiderium.  Every passing day makes the chance that Jake hasn’t appeared in your time all the more likely.  For once, Hal mercifully decides not to update you with the percentages.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t figure them out for yourself.

You come to wonder if you will ever be able to live alone.  If being without Jake is something you can do. 

What do you have to live for really? 

Jake is gone.

Dirk is gone.

Dave is more than capable of taking care of himself now, and he has a boyfriend who loves him unconditionally.

Haven doesn’t exist anymore, so even that is no longer your responsibility.

You’re free.  No strings attached.  No ties to anything.

Growing weary of it all, you make your way to where the land meets with the Pacific Ocean.  Hal doesn’t try to convince you otherwise, but he does follow you.  He says he won’t let you do anything stupid.

You’re sitting on an old wooden pier, staring into the dark waters of the ocean, thinking these thoughts one night when you notice the telltale sign of someone approaching in the sea.  The waves increase in size, and Cronus surfaces from the water.  Dripping wet, he sits beside you, completely out of breath.

You wait for him to catch it before asking, “did you find anything?”

“Yes, I think.  You’ll wvant to hear this,” Cronus begins to speak, but suddenly you hear the classic sound of your hoverboard zipping to you at full speed. 

Dave crashes to the ground in his rush to get to you, with John clinging to his shirt for dear life.  He looks at you with wild excitement in his eyes, “dude you’re not gonna believe this.”

“I think we found him!!!” John exclaims.  “Dad said he thought he felt his soul somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, but holy fuck Bro that ocean is BIG, like—”

“Bigger than my cock?” Dave asks, not even flinching as John whaps his ear from where he’s standing on his shoulder.

But you stop hearing anything they say.

Time stops.  The world stops.  Everything stops.

For that solitary moment, you cease to exist.  And then, you’re flooded with the brightest hope that you’ve ever felt.

“Bro, did you hear _anything_ we just said?” Dave asks, folding his hands across his chest.

“Nope,” you admit. “Say that again.”

“John’s Dad sent the three of us to search the Pacific.  Cronus and I both found the same island.  For some reason it’s not charted on any maps.  If he’s not there, I’m outta ideas,” Dave recaps.  “Then you went and fucking disappeared like Dorothy in Oz, so John’s Dad pointed us here.”

You’re already reaching for your old hoverboard, which Dave grudgingly lets you have.

He frowns, “how are we supposed to get back?  You’re sitting on a pier in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.”

“Hal will take you,” you tell him calmly.  You glance at your robot counterpart.  “Right?”

“Got your back, Bro,” he says.  “Go get ‘em.”

You jump onto your hoverboard, getting the feel for it beneath your feet again.  It’s been ages since you flew it, but it’s like riding a bicycle.  You don’t think you’ll ever forget the feel.

“Dude, no, I’m not missing this,” Dave insists, climbing onto the hoverboard behind you.  Knowing that Dave flies fast but you fly _faster_ , John buries himself deeply in Dave’s shirt, bracing himself.

You’re too elated to give a fuck if they come or not.  You look at Cronus and say, “lead the way.”

He nods and takes off.  A few minutes into your travel, you realize why he was out of breath.  Cronus swims _fast_.  In the water, he easily keeps up with your hoverboard, leading you through the darkened waters.

Quickly, you leave the lights of the city behind.

You travel for hours through the night, with only the stars and moon providing you with light.  The warmth of the summertime air makes the cool rush of the wind feel pleasant on your face.  You feel like you’re soaring through destiny itself, the lead character in your own cheesy romantic comedy.  You’re certain that Jake would drag you to see the story of your life, if it were a movie.

And finally, as the sun crests over the horizon, you see it in the distance.

An island.

As you near the island, Cronus stops, a gentle wave rippling out from the force of his halting.  You pause for a moment, making sure that he’s ok.  When you drop lower to the water, you see that he’s clearly fine.  In fact, he’s smiling and waving you ahead.

“You’ve always supported me ‘n Kankri.  Glad I could finally return the favor,” he says, grinning at you widely.  His gills flip behind his ears as he waves a webbed hand toward the island.  “Go find your own love, boss!  I’ll be vwaiting back in Derse!”

“Thank you,” you murmur, lifting a few fingers in the air as a silent farewell.  Cronus dives back under the water and you turn to face Dave.  “I think this is where we part ways.”

“Yeah I figured,” Dave agrees surprisingly easily.  The kid seems shockingly aware that you’ve been through Hell. Now that he’s had time to process that you and Dirk are the same person, he seems surprisingly calm.  “I won’t be cheesy like Cronus, but you were cool with John and me.  You’re all right, Bro.”

Dave holds his fist up to you.  Smirking, you bump him back.  Immediately, Hal adds his fist to the bump, and John puts his tiny fist in the middle.

It is quite possibly one of the cheesiest and coolest things you’ve ever done.  Strider fist-bumps for the win.

Sensing that the moment’s over, Hal grabs Dave and picks him up bridal style.  You feel the protest from your little bro instantly, but he reluctantly concedes, knowing that there is no other way back.

John peeks his tiny head up from the ruffles of Dave’s shirt and waves at you.  “You can do it, Bro!!!” he shouts as the three fly away.

Finally alone, you continue on to the island.

The light of the morning sun has crested fully over the horizon by the time you reach the sandy shores.  It casts a vivid pink and orange glow to the water and the sand, bathing the tropical island in its gentle light.

You drop down to the sandy shore and begin walking.

Your heart is filled with the brightest hope imaginable, because finally, after all this time, you can sense him.

You can sense Jake’s brilliant emerald energy.

You know that you’re getting closer, as you walk down the shoreline.  You barely register anything on this island.  The peculiar frog shaped statue.  The interesting trees.  The plethora of pumpkins growing everywhere.

It’s all background noise, because really only one sense is working right now.  Your Jake sense.  And it’s getting stronger. 

You sense him getting closer and _closer_.

And finally, **_finally_** , you see him. 

Deep down, you know that he’s just the same Jake English, but right now, he’s like a fucking angel surrounded by a halo of gorgeous beauty.  His dark windswept hair blows in the breeze, at times only slightly obscuring those vivid emerald eyes.  His expression is full of happiness and joy, which you feel bursting out of your own chest too.  If your heart were to fly out of your body and into his hands you wouldn’t be surprised. 

It’s his.  It’s always been his.

And now you’re making no fucking sense.  You logically know that your brain isn’t functioning, and you really don’t care.  It feels like there should be an epic orchestral number complete with a choir booming around Jake, and there just might be.  You honestly wouldn’t even notice it at this point.  You drop your hoverboard in the sand and run.

“Strider,” Jake murmurs.  Your enhanced incubus hearing is the only reason you hear it from afar.  You see the small smile on his face grow broader as he comes to you.

Like a fucking French film, he runs across the beach to you, his hair blowing in the breeze and the waves crashing picturesquely beside him.  You don’t even realize it as your feet carry you to him, every step across that sandy beach bringing you one step closer to him.

A thousand years of separation seems to grow more and more distant with every pace, and as the distance between you shrinks, you feel Jake’s excitement and his elation grow stronger, mirroring your own.

A particularly strong wind strikes you, and the orange hat Jake gave you centuries ago blows off your head as you run in the stiff breeze, and you don’t even care, because Jake’s here.  Jake’s fucking _here_ , and he’s yours.  He’s finally yours.

Closer.

_Closer._

**_Closer._ **

And he’s finally within arm’s reach.  Your hands are reaching for him, reaching, reaching—

You grab him by the waist and pull him up into your arms.  Jake laughs and throws his arms around your neck, curling his legs up and the two of you go spinning, spinning, spinning.

There’s nothing but the warmth of his body and the comforting blanket of happiness surrounding the two of you.  Your mind fills with an airy feeling of delight as you hold him to you.  Finally, you stop spinning and allow his feet to again touch the ground.

“I thought you were gone.  Oh fucking Christmas on a cracker, I thought you were gone!”  Jake hugs you, pulling you so close that you think your body and his might actually merge together.  You could think of worse ways to go than becoming one with Jake English.  He burrows his face into your neck and murmurs, “I’ve missed you so much, Dirk.”

You freeze, still holding him to you as tightly as you can.  Softly, you murmur back, “what did you say?”

Jake finally pulls back a bit, looking at you through your shades.  His emerald eyes sparkle a bit with thoughts that you don’t dare to read as he slowly pushes your shades up on top of your head.  Looking directly into your orange eyes, he repeats again, more meaningfully this time, “I’ve missed you so much, **_Dirk_**.”

Oh fuck.  Oh _fuck fuck fuck_.

“You knew?”  you whisper in disbelief.

“Yes, of course, you idiot,” he says, smiling at you and laughing lightly.  You’re kind of glad that at least _one of you_ finds this funny because **_fuck_**.  “I’ve known for a very long time.”

Mind blown.  Mind fucking blown.

Your brain is already struggling to catch up with the fact that Jake is here and that he’s yours. Now this?  How are you supposed to handle _this?_

You can’t believe it.  After all these years of trying so hard to keep yourself and Dirk separate, he knew? 

“How long,” you attempt to speak, but you find that you’re too choked up.  Your voice falters on you, and you cough it away before continuing.  “—how long have you known?”

“A few hundred years,” Jake responds quietly.

“ _What?!_ ” you exclaim.  “How?”

“I followed you,” he says simply.

“ ** _You_** followed **_me_**?” You ask incredulously.

“Yes,” Jake admits.  “I made certain you didn’t see or sense me, but I had to know where you disappeared to.  If you were dead, I don’t know if I—” He pauses, and you swear that you hear a small, almost inaudible, sad whine in the back of his throat. Quietly, he finishes, “—I would have been devastated.”

You can’t believe it.  You could laugh. 

After all those years of stalking Jake English, he finally got back at you.  Jake English stalked _you_.

And he knew your secret all along.  This whole time that he allowed himself to fall for Dirk, he knew that he was really falling for you.  Again.

Your head hurts thinking about the absurdity of the situation.  Fucking time loops. Fucking time travel.

“Why did you do it?” you finally ask him.

“I literally travel the _world_ , Dirk,” Jake says, exasperated.  “Did you really think I wouldn’t try to find you after you disappeared on me for so long?”

“That’s—not what I meant,” you persist.  Gently, you cup his cheek with the palm of your hand and lightly brush your thumb and fingers against his warm skin.  “Why did you hide it from me, when you knew?”

“Because I have loved you for a very long time, Dirk,” Jake says, a small happy smile on his lips.  “And when I found out he was you, I wanted to fall in love with him too.  I wanted to love _all_ of you.”

Something about that strikes you so deeply that you’re overcome with feeling.  You can’t think of anything other than kissing him, and so you do.

Your lips come together, and he tastes sweeter than the fucking nectar of the gods.  You’ve missed him.  Holy fuck have you missed him. 

And when he kisses you back, it’s with a passion that you’ve missed.  You can tell from his feelings that he really did think you were dead.  That you were gone and never coming back.  His heart was broken, but now it’s brimming full with the most beautiful love you have ever felt.

You don’t know how much time passes, but eventually you pull away.  You look into his emerald eyes, rub your thumb across his cheek, and laugh lightly. 

Jake twirls his fingers through your hair and giggles.  Then he pulls you together again.

Somewhere in the middle of the kiss, he pushes you down to the sand.  You’re all too happy to lay beneath him, feeling his warmth on top of you as he settles between your legs and kisses your lips, face, forehead, and everywhere showering you with his love.

You want to continue this so badly.  You can feel his want against your thigh, and you are so fucking ready for this.

But you can’t just yet.  You have to know more first.

“How did you hide it from me?” you murmur, leaning in and pressing your forehead to his.  You can feel the warmth of his breath, and the taste of his energy is so thick around him it drives you a little wild with excitement.  “I’m a fuckin’ _mind reader_ , but I never once saw it in your thoughts.”

“That’s because I didn’t think about it,” Jake says simply.  His bright emerald gaze fixes on yours, and from this insanely close vantage, it makes you a little dizzy.  You feel completely surrounded with Jake, absorbed in his being.  “I thought of _him_ as Dirk and _you_ as Bro.  But I always knew you were both the same.”

“You can do that?” you ask incredulously.

“Dirk, when you’ve lived as long as I have, you run across a wide multitude of beings,” Jake chuckles quietly.  “You learn quite a few tricks over the years.”

“I was so certain that you only loved Dirk,” you shake your head in amazement.  “It wasn’t until the night the Midnight Crew attacked that I knew you had feelings for me too.”

“Dirk, I want you to think about something,” Jake says, touching the tip of his nose to yours. 

You can’t help it, you lean in and kiss him before he can finish.

Jake kisses you back, but he laughs and pulls back again, “Come now, I’m being serious!  I want you to think about something.”

“Ok,” you concede, settling yourself a bit more comfortably in the sand. “What do you want me to think about?”

“I knew the younger you less than a year.  Yes, I loved him dearly, and I would have given just about anything to save him,” Jake says, regarding you with fondness.  “I would have given almost anything, but _I nearly **died** for him because **I knew he was also you**_.”

A lump catches in your throat.  You try to speak, but the only thing that comes out is an embarrassing high pitched sound. 

“I have lived since the beginning of this universe.  Longer than you could fathom.  But in the past 1000 years, I realized something,” Jake says, undeterred.  He pauses for a moment to gaze at you deeply, meaningfully.  “Dirk, I have never loved someone more than you.”

You want to break.  You want to scream.  You want to cry. 

Because Jake is finally saying this to you. 

To **_you_**.

**_Jake loves you._ **

“I waited a thousand years for you,” you say passionately, pulling him into a tight hug.  “I never stopped loving you.”

“I know,” Jake replies softly.  “I never stopped either.”

You’re kissing again, and this time you have no more pressing questions to ask him.  You let your fingers roam over his body, beneath his shirt and his shorts, and you sigh, feeling his hands mirroring your affections on your skin.  You don’t hesitate to help as he slowly tugs at your shirt.

It starts lazily and slowly.  As you kiss, he slowly unbuttons your shirt and helps you out of it.  You let him play with your belt and your pants as you work to remove his shirt.

But quickly things escalate, and soon it becomes a frantic rush to remove your shoes, pants, and everything else.  Very quickly, you’re both laying nude in the sand, and you sigh, loving the feel of Jake’s warmth atop you.  Of his skin on your skin.

“Dirk, I think we should have sex,” Jake suggests rather blatantly.

You chuckle.  Leave it to Jake to ask in the most unromantic way possible.  Not that it matters to you one way or another.  You would find anything he says absolutely endearing at this point.  Softly, you smile back at him and say, “I think that’s a good idea.”

You are so eager to do this that you nearly forget, some preparation might be in order.  Especially due to one little fact.  “Jake,” you murmur, but the words are stolen from your mouth as he cants his hips down, pressing your arousals together.  Your breath catches in your throat, and you instead touch your nose to his cheek and kiss his upper lip.

Jake meets your kiss with increasing passion, and when he looks at you, there’s a want behind his emerald eyes.  A want that makes you excited and even more lustful.  “Hmm?” he hums in question, moving on to kiss your cheek, your jaw-line, your neck.

“I wanted to wait for you.  I would have waited those thousand years for this too, but you know what I am.  I couldn’t.  I’m sor—” you murmur.

Jake quickly kisses you and shuts you up.  “None of that now.  You could have slept with millions of people and I wouldn’t care a whit.”

But you’re not done talking.  Your cheeks flush with heat as you force yourself to continue.  “I had to do what I did to survive.  So that my brothers would survive.  But Jake, I did save something for you.”

Gently, you take his hand and guide it down between you.  Taking his index finger, you circle it around the puckered ring of your entrance and whisper heatedly into his ear, “I never let anyone enter me here.”

You see Jake’s eyes widen and feel his hand clench your butt a bit in surprise.  “Truly?”

“Only for you, Jake,” you assure him with a soft exposed smile.  “This is only for you.”

You feel the surge of fondness, pride, and love in Jake and it fills you with elation.  You know that you made the right choice.  Jake is quick to capture your lips again while he gently dips his finger in and out of you.

You add a little spit to his finger for his future comfort, and it doesn’t take you long to be ready for him.  You are a sex starved incubus after all.  Roxy and Jane may have kept you alive, but it was only through platonic hugs. 

You need more.  Your body craves more.

You need Jake.

Jake seems to sense this too, and he is quick to withdraw his finger and position himself properly.  He looks up at you one last time, asking, “may I?”

“You damn well better,” you growl.

It’s all the incentive Jake needs.  After being a backdoor virgin for a thousand years, you gasp when you feel him slide quickly inside you like he always did.

It’s been so long.  So very very long.  You clench around him instinctively, gripping at the taut muscles of his back.

Jake seems to sense that you’ll need a moment to adjust, and he doesn’t move.  Instead, he gently threads his fingers through your hair in what you can only say is a very pleasing and comforting way.

You will yourself to relax for him.  Soon, you’re eased enough that he can continue.

The two of you make beautiful love on the sandy island shores.  You soak in the titillating waves of his pleasure as they burst out toward you, filling you with love and also an increasing lust. 

You’re inside Jake’s head.  You feel everything that Jake feels.  You sense everything that he senses. 

As he gets closer and closer to completion, you do too.  You have missed Jake’s energy.  You have missed his love.

It fills you with the sweetest happiness when he comes.  When he does, you are quick to follow him, spilling yourself between your bodies as you gently rock your hips up to meet him a few last times.

When he is completely finished, Jake sighs and slumps forward on top of you, heedless of the sticky mess you left behind.  “I fear this is an all-new record for me.”

“Hmm?” you hum at him inquiringly.

“I don’t think I even lasted a minute!” Jake wails into your shoulder, the sound of his voice muffled by your skin.

“ _24.53 seconds_ ,” Hal supplies through your shades.

Fuck.  You forgot he was listening.  And probably recording.

“ _Hell yeah I’m recording.  I’m you, remember?_ ” he says.

You don’t bother responding to him.  Instead, you smirk up at Jake, “It’s all right.  I have a feeling we’ll have plenty of opportunities to make it up soon.”

Jake pulls back a bit, and your soul fills with happiness again as he grins.  “I’d say we shall!”

You do. 

About ten minutes later, to be precise.  And then again an hour later.  And again in the afternoon.  And before dinner.  And twice before bed.

You spend several days blissfully with Jake on the island. 

The two of you enjoy the pleasant tropical weather, hike to the top of a volcano, catch up on life, and have more sex than you’d care to admit to anyone.

It’s like a fucking honeymoon.  You couldn’t be happier.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Be in love**

Life is beautiful.  Life is absolutely perfect.

You didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more in love with Jake than you have ever been.  You’ve spent nearly an entire month with him on this island, and it’s a beautiful reprieve from the constant toils of your former life as a demon hunter.

There is only one thing that reminds you that you still have work to do.

The night of the full moon comes, and you sense the unease in Jake immediately.  The two of you are cuddling beneath the stars, nestled together in the grass beneath a large tree.  He hasn’t said anything about it yet, but you can sense his guilt immediately.

Gently you lean in and kiss him on the cheek.  He looks over at you, and you remind him, “you know, I won’t die if we don’t have sex for a few days.  I could probably go a month without really needing it.”

“Dirk, I-I know,” Jake stammers, flustered about the whole situation.  He knows that you’ve guessed what is really bothering him, and he sighs with frustration.  “I wish that this wasn’t an issue.  That this whole conundrum didn’t have to exist.”

“What if I told you it doesn’t?” you ask.

Jake looks at you with shock in his wide green eyes.  “Goodness, don’t say such things!  To even hint that there could be a glimmer of hope—”

“Jake, if there is one thing you’ve taught me, it’s that there is always hope,” you tell him seriously.

A full minute passes by.  You see the change in his expression range from surprise, to elation, to sadness, to hope.  “Are you saying— you’ve found a way to defeat him?”

“I have a few ideas,” you admit.  You take his hand in your own, squeezing it tightly and in a way you hope is reassuring.  “We’ll have to work together on this one.  Can I count you in?”

Jake laughs, and it’s music to your ears.  “Of course, Dirk.  Of course.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Show Jake your work** 

Over the past thousand years, you worked tirelessly in Derse on your robotics.  On your creations.

On a weapon you could use to kill Lord English.

You take your rocketboard to Derse and show Jake all of the designs you had in mind.  You even have the repaired version of the gun he gave you long ago.  The gun you were supposed to use on _him_ that your mother fixed for you after Lord English broke it.

Jake walks through your robotics laboratory in awe of all that you created in your time.  Your laboratory is not the small room in Derse you initially started in.  It’s huge, easily the size of a warehouse, and it’s filled to the brim with your creations.  “A thousand years, and _this_ is what you created.  You are simply astounding!”

“Technically, it was a lot longer than a thousand years on Derse,” you remind him.  “But when I get into my work, time loses its meaning.”

Jake finds the gleaming silver gun he gave you and runs his fingers along it sadly.  “You didn’t use this on me.  Not really.”

“Hey, I shot your leg off,” you counter.

“Yes, but you didn’t _kill me_ ,” Jake says, shaking his head.  He looks at you, and there is a sadness and thankfulness in his expression.  “It took a lot of bravery to do what you did.  And I fear this will be a test of mangrit too.  Lord English is not a force to trifle with, and if we make one mistake, it could spell misfortune for not only this planet but the entire universe.”

“I’m aware of the risks.  As you can see, I’ve thought a lot about this,” you say, waving a hand at your workshop.  “But you know Lord English better than anyone.  I’ll show you everything I made, and you can tell me what you think will work.”

It takes you a _very_ long time to show Jake your work.  Days go by as you explain the intricacies of each device and weapon you created.  Jake listens with rapt attention, his expression completely serious as he carefully inspects each one.

And finally, you finish showing him the last one.

Jake takes a seat at your workbench and sighs.  “Dirk, you put so much work into each of these.  You’re a genius truly.  But—I don’t think any of these will quite do the trick.”

You take a seat beside him, a frown touching your lips.  This wasn’t what you expected.  You thought for certain that at least _one_ of these would be somewhat suitable.  “Not a single one?”

“I mean,” Jake says, his eyes gazing off to the side in thought.  “There are several of your designs that have potential, but none of them are charged with the energy needed to kill Lord English.”

You stay silent, letting him continue.

Jake pauses, continuing to mull things over.  “I suppose I could charge them myself in time, as I did with the gun I gave you, but I worked on that for several centuries.”

“You worked on that for centuries?” you echo.

Jake regards you with fondness, his teeth peeking over his lips as he smiles at you.  “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Dirk.  I would have trusted you with my life long ago.”

You’re starting to feel guilty now.  But Jake speaks again before you can continue feeling that way.

“I’m not so certain my energy alone could take him down either.  It didn’t the first time I fought him,” he frowns at the memory.  “But I think, it might be possible—”

You wait for him to continue thinking things through.  Part of you is so very happy to see him like this.  You love the look of concentration on his face.  The adorable way that he is rubbing his chin with his index finger and staring at the ground in rapt concentration.

“I could probably tweak a few of your weapons so that they had the potential to destroy Lord English, but there are a few requirements,” he says slowly, then looks up at you.  “We would need someone who has an immense amount of holy energy at their disposal, and then another to balance it with dark.  And finally, someone who can calibrate your weapon exactly to Lord English’s soul, since that is what you will be pulling out of me.”

It takes you less than half a second to put everything together.  You can’t help it.  You’re grinning at him.

“What?” He asks, a little taken back.  “Is something about this humorous to you?”

“Yeah, it is,” you agree.  “Because I know exactly who we need to ask.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Ask Feferi for help** 

“ _You’re_ Lord English?!”  Feferi exclaims, rising quickly from her gleaming golden throne when you explain the situation.  She marches right up to Jake, a passionate burning behind her eyes. The force of her emotion is so strong that a gale of wind emanates from her, blowing over all of the potted plants that she had lining her throne room.  “YOU?!!!  All of my angels have been searching forever for **YOU?!!** ”

You’ve never seen Feferi so angry before, but you can’t say you’re really surprised.  She’s spent centuries hunting Lord English, possibly longer.  You’re really not sure how long she’s been at it.

Her eyes gleam in a dangerous way, and Jake actually takes a step back in worry.

Quickly, you step between the two of them.  “ _He’s_ not Lord English.  Jake is our universe’s First Guardian, and it would be very foolish to do anything to him, since that would only release Lord English out on the universe again.  But we have a plan to get rid of Lord English forever.”

Grudgingly, Feferi backs down and folds her arms across her chest.  “I’m listening.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Ask Betty for help** 

This goes a lot smoother than it has any right to.  Although, perhaps it’s a perceived smoothness based off knowing the Condesce.

She sits on her dark throne in Derse and narrows her eyes at Jake when you bring him into the room.  When you explain the situation to her, she taps her fingers on the armrest of the throne and sighs with disgust.  “Lord English, ma only weakness.  You better appreciate this, ‘cause it’s the last favor you’re gettin’ from me.”

“I appreciate everything you’ve done, Betty,” you tell her, the words actually holding more truth than you had intended.

The Condesce actually looks a little touched by this.  It looks like she was about to say something, but she falters.  Finally, she waves her hand at you, “you’re gonna make me a softie.  Get outta ma face until you’re ready for ma help.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Ask Dad for help** 

“I’d be honored,” the king of the fairies says, smiling from ear to ear as he pats you and Jake both on the shoulder. 

The force of his happy blows nearly knocks the plate of cake he gave you from your hands.  You’re sitting in the king’s study again, where Jake is happily eating a dogwood pear cake that the king himself prepared. 

“I’m so proud of you both,” Dad says, with a bright twinkle in his blue eyes.  “I know that you can beat Lord English.  I truly believe that.”

You nod at him.  “I’ll call you later, after this is all over.”

“Don’t call me later,” the fairy king says, a mischievous grin on his face. “Call me Dad.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Kill Lord English** 

The whole ordeal takes some preparation.  A few months go by before Jake is satisfied with the exact calibration of the weapons he has chosen from your arsenal in Derse.  You literally created hundreds of weapons in your time, but Jake selects two that seem quite appropriate for you both.

The weapon he chooses for himself is similar to a pistol.  It wasn’t anything fancy when you created it, but after Jake adds his own carvings and unique emerald energy to the weapon, it glows with a radiance you have to admire.

The weapon he chooses for you is a sword.  You call it that, but really, it’s nothing like a sword at all.  More like a very sharp energy rod.  Wielding this weapon against Lord English will be dangerous, because you’ll need to be in close proximity to use it.  But you both decide that guns really aren’t your thing and that you are far better off with this type of weapon.

Jake takes his time carving out ancient symbols you don’t recognize into your selected blade.  When you compare Jake’s pistol and your sword, you notice that the carvings are nearly matching.  You haven’t a clue what they mean.  When you ask Jake, he simply smiles and says he would be happy to teach you his language sometime later.

Jake has his own language?  That man will never cease to surprise you.  You’re definitely going to learn it forward and backward after this whole Lord English mess is over.

Jake imbues both your weapons with his energy.  He curses that he can’t do it faster, but he needs to reserve a large majority of his energy for keeping Lord English trapped.  To speed up the process, Jake transfers the remainder of the energy he placed in the gun he gave you long ago into these two weapons.  He remarks that it helped a great deal, but it still isn’t quite enough.

Finally, after enough time has passed, he says, “I think that should do it.”

Your first stop is Prospit, where Feferi concentrates and imbues both weapons with the concentrated holy power within her and the planet. 

“By the way, I thought you’d like to know that the Midnight Crew are all locked away in the tightest security prisons we have,” Feferi tells you cheerily.  “They are in no condition to escape, and they never will.”

“That is relieving to hear,” you agree.  Truly it is.

“I thought so too.  And Strider, good luck,” she says.  “I know you two can do it.  And if you don’t, then there will be one hell of a holy war soon!”

Just the thought of Feferi and her angels wreaking havoc makes a shiver run down your spine, but you don’t let it show.  Instead, you simply thank her and move on your way.

Your second stop is Derse, where the Condesce places the dark energy from the core of the planet and her own into your weapons. 

“By the way,” she says, catching you before you leave.  “I tracked down those three mothafuckas that were working for Lord English.”

You pause, waiting to hear that the queen of Derse is finally taking responsibility for her subjects.

“Damara, Kurloz, and Meulin are sitting in the castle cells now and forever,” she says, a large toothy grin spread across her face.  “Reinforced the walls maself.  They ain’t _never_ leavin’ again.”

Poetic justice, you think. 

No.  It’s just plain justice. Terezi will be thrilled to hear about it.

You grin, making a deep and overly ironic bow.  “Your rule as queen has never been wiser.”

She laughs and dramatically bows back as much as she can from her seated position.  “You ever doubt me?”

Yes.  You did.  A lot of times.  You wish she would have done something about those three a _long_ time ago.

But you aren’t about to tell her that.

Instead you move on to the fairy forest, where Dad already has tea and cakes ready.  You sip your tea and watch as the king of the fairies examines the weapons, then examines Jake.  If you didn’t know he was 100% not interested in Jake at all, you would be a little jealous with the way he’s touching your boyfriend.  Jake is almost completely nude, stripped down to his boxers, and the fairy king is placing his hands directly atop his skin, making light circular motions.

Dad seems to realize that it’s an awkward situation, and he apologizes, “I’m sorry that I have to do this, but it’s difficult to read Lord English’s energy signature through your body and soul.”

You’re impressed that the fairy king can sense it at all.  Except on the rare occasions that Jake lost control on the nights of the full moon, you have never sensed Lord English within him.

The fairy king studies Jake for hours.  He explains, “souls are very complicated and unique.  Identifying a soul is one thing, but _recreating_ _it_ is much more difficult.  For your weapons to work, this will need to be exact.”

You let him take his time.

While you wait, you notice Dave and John not-so-stealthily sneak by in the hallway.  Figuring that you’ve got some time to kill, you follow them.  You find them sitting closely together outside by the lake, watching the fairies play and skim across the surface of the water.  John looks like he wants to drag Dave out there too, but you know your little bro.  You know Dave will have nothing to do with that.

You flashstep over and sit beside Dave so quickly that you sense him tense a little bit with surprise.  “What’dya want, Bro?” he asks.

“Can’t I just say hello to my baby bro?” you ask, grabbing him by the shoulders and hugging him closely and awkwardly.

Dave squirms in your arms.  “Broooo you’re embarrassing me in front of my booooyfriend!  Not cool.  Not even ironically cool.”

“Aww, that’s ok.  I have enough love for _both_ of you,” you say, simply widening your hug, pulling John in too. 

John giggles and hugs back, happy to squish Dave into what he calls an “awkward ice-cream sandwich.”

Dave pretends to be upset for a while.  But eventually he sighs and relaxes.  Finally, he asks, “so what did you really come for?”

“Jake and I are fighting Lord English soon,” you tell him quietly, your voice suddenly serious.  “This could be it.  If we don’t make it back, it’s up to you to take care of everything from here on out, lil’ man.”

You feel the shift in Dave immediately.  His arms circle around you and pull you close like his life depends on it.  “Fuck—” he murmurs.

“Hey, what happened to it not being even ironically cool to hug your bro in public?” you chide him half-heartedly.

Even John senses the change in the atmosphere too, and he lets go of your big group hug.  He folds his wings down and opts instead to soothingly rub Dave’s back.

“Fuck, Bro—or Dirk, whatever you’re callin’ yourself now,” Dave murmurs into your shirt.  “You can’t do this.  You can’t.”

“I can, and I have to,” you respond seriously, pulling him tighter.  You move your fingers to his neck and wind your other hand through the back of his hair, pulling him closer until your cheeks are touching.  It’s enough contact for you to feed him your energy.  Your love.  Your feelings of calm.

You feel Dave tremble beside you uncharacteristically.  His voice is broken as he says, “don’t do this.  Don’t leave too.”

“I’ll try not to die,” you agree, running your fingers through his hair gently and doubling the calming energy you’re feeding him.

Finally, you think you’ve given him enough sedating energy.  He stops trembling and sighs.  John continues to rub soft circles on his back, his bright blue eyes filled with sadness as he murmurs, “Dave…”

“I know you’ve gotta do it,” Dave murmurs.  “I know it’s gotta be you and Jake. You two are like the fucking Romeo and Juliet of this shitty world.  And you’ve gotta be the ones to take down Lord English ‘cause nobody else is gonna be able to do that, but _fuck_ I don’t wanna lose you.  Dirk’s already gone, and if _you’re_ gone too I don’t know it’ll be like the anti-Christmas all up in here.  Complete with shitty presents. It’s shitty.  This is all so fuckin’ shitty.”

“Dave, you’re rambling,” you remind him gently, holding your baby brother close.  Quietly, you ask, “hey, what have I always told you?”

“Don’t be a snot-nosed wimp?” Dave mumbles back into your shirt.

You pause.  That wasn’t quite the one you were looking for.  Snorting lightly, you answer for him, “no, you dork.  You’re a Strider.  And Striders stick together.  Even if I die, I’m not leavin’ you.  I’m gonna haunt your ass until the day you die.”

Dave laughs.  “You better, Bro.  You fuckin’ better.”

You sit with them a little bit longer on the shores of the lake.  Eventually, you feed Dave enough calming energy that he feels all right about you leaving to fight Lord English.  He even lets John convince him to get out onto the water.

You wonder why the hell you never did this to Dave sooner.

Content with everything, you sit on the bank of the lake and watch your baby bro and his boyfriend skim along the surface of the lake.  Dave’s actually smiling as John holds him aloft, his wings fluttering around them both to keep them up in the air.  John doesn’t even seem like holding up an extra person is hard work at all.  Then you remember that this is the fairy that fights with a gigantic Zillyhoo hammer a hundred times his size.  Remembering the strength of Dad’s playful slap on your shoulder, you are not surprised at all with the origin of John’s power.

You are so happy that your brother found happiness.  That you were able to fulfill one of your dying mother’s last wishes and bring Dave and John together.

And now, you have to complete your parents’ legacy.  You and Jake will finish the work they started as demon hunters. The work you continued at Haven.

You and Jake will protect not only the planet but the universe as well.

You and Jake will kill Lord English.

Night has fallen by the time Dad emerges from the study with Jake.  Not wanting to interrupt, you were sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall just outside the door with a fairy book in hand.  You’ve become far better at reading the fairy language over the centuries, but it never hurts to add a few extra words to your vocabulary.

You look up at the two of them.  “Is it done?”

“It’s done,” Dad agrees, a weariness behind his blue eyes.  “But you boys had better spend the evening and get a good night’s rest before you take him on.  I sensed the power within his soul.  It will take all of your strength to defeat him.”

You allow Jake to help you up, and then you turn to Dad.  “Thank you for all of your help.  Truly, I would never have made it this far without you.”

“Anytime,” he says.  A bit of uncertainty comes over his voice as he asks, “are you certain you don’t need my assistance in the fight?”

“Your people need you,” you insist.  “In the event that we do not succeed, Lord English knows about this place now.  He will come after you for helping us.  You must escape with the rest of the fairies and find a new place to live.”

“I thought you might say something like that,” the fairy king sighs.  Then he offers his hand. “Well then, let me offer you good luck one last time.”

You take his hand and allow your fingers to be squished in his crushing handshake.  “Thank you.”

As you leave the fairy forest, Hal pings in your shades, a courtesy so that you know he’s about to insert his thoughts into your head.  So kind of him.

“ _Hey_ ,” he says into your brain.  “ _It’s been a while since you’ve been in The City.  Come find me before you go off to beat the final boss._ ”

You sigh and redirect the better cooler rocketboard that you built recently toward The City.  You let Dave have that old one, which he was very grateful for.

It doesn’t take you long to track down Hal when you get to the city.  He wants you to find him, so he makes ironically gigantic arrows appear on your shades across your vision, pointing the direction you need to go to find him.

You find that he’s leading you back to someplace very familiar.

“No fucking way,” you murmur when you step off your rockeboard.

In front of you, are your friends.  Karkat, Kanaya, Porrim, Terezi, Latula, Rufioh, Tavros, and Hal are all standing there grinning like fucking idiots.  Even Cronus is sitting on a nearby bench, holding a very weak looking Kankri.

Behind them is Haven.  Completely rebuilt.

“You rebuilt it,” you murmur, shaking your head and actually laughing once outloud.  “You fucking rebuilt it.”

“Bigger, better, and more badass than ever before!” Rufioh assures you, pointing at you and winking. 

“The inside’s just as retarded as before,” Karkat assures you.

“This is—” you murmur, then actually pause.  Maybe it’s because Jake’s back that you’re getting soft like this.  But maybe it’s because you never thought you would have friends like this. 

Friends that would risk their lives for you, die for you, die _again_ for you, search the world for months for you, and rebuild your dream for you.  Friends you can count on.  Friends you can trust.

True friends.

“—I can’t believe you did this,” you continue.  “This is great but—”

“We have heard what you intend to do,” Porrim assures you.  “Hal has filled us in.  Come inside and we will discuss things.”

You cast a glance at Jake.  He looks at you and shrugs his shoulders.  You only have two weapons you can use against Lord English.  You’ll have to find some way to break it to them that they can’t come.  Looking back at them, you begin again, “I truly appreciate this, but—”

“No!  No butts!” Terezi interrupts, pointing at Jake.  “Unless it is _his_ lime green butt.”

You glare at her, and because she’s blind, she can actually sense that through her weird taste-smell-vision.  Terezi cackles.

Rufioh loops an arm over your neck and shoulder, then loops the other one over Jake’s, and pulls you both inside.  “Come on, Bro, you’ve gotta see what we did!”

You find that you can’t argue anymore.

When you get inside, you can’t help but smile.

The place is filled with phallic shaped balloons.  And streamers.  And jugglers.

And even fucking dancing bears.

“Told you it was just as retarded on the inside,” Karkat grumbles.

“Like it?”  Rufioh asks, letting you go so that you can marvel at everything.

“Love it,” you chuckle.

Rufioh and Tavros show you around the new place, and you have to admit that their handiwork is very impressive.  They completely remodeled the place, giving it a new face-lift but retaining some of your ideas.  There’s still a bar, a lounge area, and a row of offices in the back.  Your office is intact, although now there are selfies of Dave hung up everywhere.  Even your closet portal to Derse is still there.

Satisfied that you’ve seen everything important, they bring you back out to the bar area.

“God damn it, Dave,” You chuckle, knowing that only your younger brother could have done this.  Only he would remember that these were the exact things you always threatened getting to celebrate something monumentous, like Dirk breaking up with Caliborn.  Or Dave going a fucking hour without whining like a little bitch.

Dave steps out from behind where your bar is completely rebuilt, this time in metal, with slick finishing.  “Like it?  It’s like fucking word-for-word what you always said. I even got the weird penis balloons.”

“No smuppets?” you ask, grinning at him.

Dave pales.  “Dude, don’t bring up the devil in the house of god.  Not cool.”

You chuckle.  “All right, all right.  But seriously, how did you get back here so fast?  My old rocketboard takes twice as long.”

“Rude,” Dave scoffs. “You’re not the only one who can use Derse portals, Bro.”

“You know where they lead?” you ask, seriously surprised.

“Please.  I’ve been using Derse portals since I was 5,” Dave grins.  “Now hey, stop being a douche and turn around.  You’ve got a party waiting for you.”

You turn around and find that your friends have thrown you a nice sized party.  The place must still be closed to the public, but all of your friends are here.  And you mean all of them. 

Even Jane and Roxy.  The angels both smile and hug you when you approach them in the new lounge area.  This time, they are hugs of happiness and not the sad ones they gave you last time you saw them.  “Way to go, Di-Stri!  I knew you would find him,” Roxy exclaims, squealing a little with glee.

“I had a little help,” you murmur.  “Thanks.  I’d never have made it without you two.”

“We know how stubborn you can be,” Jane chides with a knowing smile.  “And we know you and Jake can do this too.”

You really aren’t sure if she’s right, but you don’t let that show.  Instead, you simply grin at her and agree, “we’ll be back before you know it.”

“Atta boy!” Roxy cheers and smiles.  “Now no more heavy talk.  You’ve got friends waiting for you!”

You take a moment to speak with everyone.  You sit with Cronus and Kankri and find out that Kankri is healing slowly but surely.  He’ll have to return back to Derse after this party to continue gathering his strength, but he wanted to see you off.

“I truly believe in you, Bro,” Kankri says, smiling at you from where he is sitting on a comfortable lounge chair.

“He’s still a little crazy, but even my cousin Eridan vwishes you luck!” Cronus says with a small sad smile.

You find Kanaya and Porrim sitting at a table in the bar, sipping mysterious red liquid and conversing quietly.  They both wish you luck, of course. 

“Dirk was like a brother to me,” Kanaya says quietly.  “And so are you.  Please do not die.  I will miss you.”

Porrim notices when Kanaya begins to tear up, and she pulls her into a side-hug.  “If Lord English eats your soul, it’s all over.  But I’m sure you know that already.”

“Don’t let him do that, ok?” Terezi says, sniffing you as she walks by. 

“That’d be SO NOT rad!” Latula agrees, patting your shoulder.

“You are strong, Bro,” Porrim continues.  “If anyone can defeat him, it is you and Jake.”

Porrim’s words stick with you.

When you head to the back of the place, Tavros fist bumps you.  “You’ve uhh, always been a pretty cool guy. I think you will succeed.”

You smile and bump Tavros back. “Thanks, Tavros.”

Rufioh high fives you.  “You got this, Bro!”

“So do you, this place is better than before,” you admit.

Rufioh winks back at you. “What’d I tell you?”

In the back hallway, you find Karkat, who was never much for the crowded party scene.  Or any kind of scene.  “Don’t die ok?” he says with a scowl.  “You die and I have to put up with Dave’s shit alone for the rest of my life.”

“Hey now, is that any way to speak to your new boss?” Dave asks, his voice carrying down the hall from his office.  It prompts you to visit your old office.

When you step back inside the old familiar room, you smirk. “Couldn’t help it with the selfies, could you?”

“Dude, these are the shit,” Dave says instinctively, sitting in the seat behind a large wooden desk that looks almost exactly like the one you used to have.  “Step into my office, Bro.”

“You little shit, you knew I was going to pass this on to you, didn’t you?” you murmur.

“Kinda made it obvious, Bro,” he agrees.  “Plus I’ve known you my whole life.  You’d never miss the chance to pass the baton on a sack of steaming shit like this.”

“Yeah, sometimes being the alpha dick _is_ a steaming sack of shit,” you agree.  “It’s hard leading all these people.  It’s hard saving the world every day.  But it does come with its rewards.  You know, like living.  And the planet not being destroyed.”

“Minor details,” Dave says, waving it off.

“I know it’s a daunting task, but you can handle it.  You’re a Strider. One bit of advice though,” you tell him. 

You start to get flashbacks of your dad saying this to you.  Of you saying this to Dirk.  Of every time anyone gave this advice and it was ignored.  You fear for your little brother a little, but you say the words anyway.  “The Condesce will help you, but don’t ever let her—”

“Bro, you think John would _ever_ let me do that?” Dave interrupts to ask you rhetorically.

“No fucking way!” John’s voice comes from the hallway.

You would swear that it’s louder than usual.  Not quite as high pitched.  Almost as if—

John walks into the room, and you can’t help the smile that spreads on your face.

He’s full human sized.  John’s grinning like an idiot, and he half runs and half flies into Dave’s awaiting arms.  His lips are on Dave’s, keeping him from saying much of anything.

Dave tries to talk anyway.

“Dude!’’  Kiss. 

“You!”  Kiss. 

“But how?!” Kiss.

“John!” Kiss.

Finally, John giggles and backs off.  “Roxy might have shown me a thing or two,” he says.  “She said she always thought it was silly to keep it from me.  That Dad probably just didn’t want me to grow up.”

“Roxy’s crazy sometimes, but you know what?  I think she’s right,” Dave agrees.

You wave.  “I’ll let you to get to it.  Best of luck to you both.”

“You too!” John calls happily after you.

“Bro,” Dave says sharply, drawing your attention back to him.

When you turn around to look at him, you smirk.

Your little brother’s holding out his fist.

You bump him back.

“Don’t let me be the only Strider,” Dave says seriously.  “The world ain’t ready for that yet.”

“Hey, remember what I said?  Striders stick together,” you tell him.  “I’m comin’ back for you, lil’ man.”

* * *

 

**Dirk == > For Fuck’s sake, BEAT LORD ENGLISH!!!** 

Your friends look sad to see you go, but you can feel the hope in their spirits as you leave.  You know that they believe in you.  They’re counting on you to save the universe.

It’s a pretty tall order, when you think about it.  You’ve been saving the planet for centuries, but the universe?  That’s a new concept.

After dodging through the streamers and dancing bears, you collect Jake from the party and leave for what could be your final mission.

You stand by your rocketboard and suddenly pause.

“Did you have some place in mind where we could do this?” you ask Jake.  “Killing Lord English might be a little rough on the ecosystem.”

“It could be,” he agrees.  “Hmm, do you remember that island where you found me?  How about there?  It seemed fairly isolated.  I doubt we will be wreaking havoc on any ecosystems over there!”

“You got it,” you murmur, jumping onto the rocketboard.  You smile when you feel Jake climb up behind you, sliding his hands snugly around your waist and holding on. 

Your friends all run outside to see you off.  You hear them all screaming and hollering, wishing you both good luck and demanding that you come back safely.

You wave at them once and take off.

With your newly improved rocketboard, it doesn’t take you too long to reach the island.  There really aren’t any Derse portals near it, so you’re better off traveling this way.

When you reach the island, it’s slightly past noon.  Jake points and directs you to a long stretch of beach that is uninhabited by anything.  The entire island is mostly deserted, but this will give you plenty of room to work.

As soon as you land, Jake removes something from his sylladex that looks suspiciously like a wand.  He points it at the ground, shooting a bright white ray at the sand and heating it until it turns into glass.  Then, carefully, he begins walking around, creating intricate patterns of glass in the sand.

You stand back and watch him work, admiring the careful precision he uses and the caution he takes not to step on any of the glass pattern he has already created.  The “wand” you realize must be a tool that produces immense heat, if it is able to turn sand into glass.  You wonder what else Jake has in his little bag of tricks.

You don’t recognize the pattern that Jake creates, but you do notice that some of the swirls and some of the sharp edges look similar to the patterns he placed on your sword and his gun.  It must be the writing of his native tongue.

When he finishes, the sun is still high in the sky.  Jake puts the wand away and carefully makes his way over to you, making sure not to step on the glass he made.

“Not that I don’t love watching you work,” you murmur.  “But you care explaining the point of that?”

“It is a temporary prison,” Jake explains.  “It will hold Lord English in place until we are finished.”

“No offense, but it’s made of _glass_ ,” you point out.  “That isn’t going to hold him very long.”

“We won’t need it to,” he assures you, a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he materializes both your blade and his gun from his sylladex.  He hands you the sword, carved with his symbols and filled with more energy than you can possibly fathom being contained in one small object.  “Are you ready for this?”

You take the blade, testing the feel again between your hands.  When you deem it satisfactory, you look back up at Jake and nod.

He steps in close to you, passionately and possessively kissing you.  You don’t hesitate to kiss him back, wrapping your arms carefully around his body and drawing him in closer to you.  Jake’s kiss is filled with the sweetness of his soul and all of the love that he has for you.  You can feel him sharing it with you, filling you with his bright emerald energy, and imbuing in you strength that you didn’t have before.

And you can hear his thoughts loudly and clearly while he does it.

“ _I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you_ —” he thinks over and over again, grasping you tighter, and pouring as much of his love and energy into you as he can.

When he finally pulls back, he regards you with a sad smile. 

“I love you, Dirk,” he says, this time out loud. “Whatever happens, I want you to know that.”

“Jake, you mean everything to me.  I love you more than anything,” you admit to him softly.  “I’ll gladly face whatever lies ahead, because I’m not giving you up.  Never again.”

Jake’s smile widens and he pulls you into a tight hug.  “Dirk, I don’t know why you ever took such an interest in me, but I’m so glad that you did.  These past thousand years were some of the hardest and also the best.”

“Yeah, they were for me too,” you admit, chuckling softly.  “But that’s kind of egocentric for me, since they were my only thousand years.”

Jake laughs and continues holding you for several minutes.  You can sense that he doesn’t want to let you go.  That he’s scared of what’s going to happen.

That you’ll die and he will never see you again.

You don’t want to, but eventually, you pull back from him.  The sun has moved a little lower in the sky, but it is still hanging brightly overhead.  You’d rather do this before it sets, bringing out the moon and another source of Lord English’s power.  “Are you ready, Jake?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, stepping back from you.  “When you pull his soul free, make sure to place it within the circle at the center of the glyph I drew.  It will give us the best chance of beating him. He won’t be weak this time, as he was in the past.  Lord English is at full strength.”

“I will,” you promise him. “Anything else I should know?”

“He has two main sources of life.  His brain and his heart.  To defeat him, we must take out both simultaneously,” Jake says.  He grins and makes a small gunshot motion with his right hand.  “I’ll go for the headshot.”

“And I’ll go for the heart,” you agree.

Jake nods, and steps back from you a little more.  He takes a deep breath, and slowly unbuttons the green button-down shirt he wore today specifically for this purpose, exposing his skin and toned muscles to you.  Jake regards you with green eyes that are somehow calm, fearful, sad, and determined all at once.  Then, he holds his arms out to the side, inviting you to rip the monster out of him.

As you look at him, standing there with his arms spread to you, the light of the sun behind him and the wind sweeping his hair and clothing in the breeze, you can’t help but wonder how you ended up with such a perfect being.  Such a tragic and perfect being.  You think about the past thousand years, about the torment that you went through just to get to this moment, and you think you would do it all over again, a thousand more times, because you love him _that much_.

“I love you, Jake,” you tell him seriously.  Then, you place your hand to the skin of his chest, feeling for the exact resonance of Lord English’s soul, and _pull_.

Jake cries out as the evil dark essence is ripped out of him.

You watch Lord English materialize in the air in front of you, the burden of his dark essence growing in your hands and taking the form of a large hideous black monster.

At first, you are shocked to see Lord English form so quickly, to feel the depth of his hatred for you, Jake, and the universe in front of your face.  And then, you remember that Jake was anticipating this.  That he drew that special glyph in the sand for this very reason.

Quickly, you redirect the dark soul, extending your hand out toward the circle in the center of the sand symbol.  You grit your teeth together as you force the demonic soul away from you and Jake. It takes more effort than you thought it would, but you channel the dark energy into the circle, watching Lord English form at the center of the glyph.

As the last of the evil soul leaves Jake, you hear your boyfriend wince and fall to a knee in the sand.  You look at him with concern, but instantly, he thinks to you, “ _there’s no time!!!  I’ll do my part from here.  Go kill him now!!!_ ”

He looks up at you, a burning, dread, and conviction in his expression.  Weakly, but determinedly, he says, “ **GO!!!** ”

Instantly, you’re in motion.  As Lord English forms, you feel the gravity on the beach shift, and the world becomes so much _heavier_ than it was before, pulling you toward the earth with force that you have to fight with every fiber of your being. 

Lord English is fully formed now, a dark monstrous green and black being.  He opens his mouth, detaching his jaw from his skull and roars a terrible honking sound that vibrates through the land.  The force pushes you and Jake back a bit and knocks over several trees in the distance.  The surrounding air fills with darkness that threatens to block out the sun.

You have to get to him now.  _Now_.

With a burst of speed, you run toward him.  When you reach the edge of Jake’s glass glyph, you leap.

Time seems to slow, as it always does, when you come face to face with Lord English.  As you fly through the air toward him, you hear that horrible voice in your head.

**_DIRK STRIDER._ **

“ _That’s_ me,” you think back at him.  You’re not even sure if he can hear you, but you don’t really care.

**_YOU ARE JUST.  A SIMPLE INCUBUS._ **

Mental conversations happen at a disgusting speed, because you find that you’re still only partway through the air.  You narrow your eyes, concentrating on the demon ahead.

**_YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY.  DEFEAT ME._ **

“ _You sure about that?  Because I really think I can_ ,” you think back.  Even if he can’t hear you, it doesn’t matter.  You’re grinning as you fly through the air, because you realize that you actually believe that. 

You really believe that you can win.

You can’t see Jake behind you, and you don’t dare take your eyes off Lord English to look back at him.  But you know that Jake will do his part.  You know he’s got your back.

Jake’s your best friend.  Your partner.  Your lover.

You trust him with your life.

You think about it as you fly in what you would swear is slow motion to Lord English.

_I trust you with my life, Jake._

The foul miasma of Lord English’s presence is palpable in the air.  You feel it clinging to you, trying to pull you back.

_I trust you, Jake. I love you._

You’re almost there.  Lord English is close enough that you can see the darkness of his eyes and the detailed cracks in his leathery skin.  His malicious energy is so thick that you are certain you would choke on it if you actually had to breathe.  You’re not sure if you will make it through this toxic cloud of his essence.  You feel it slowing you, pushing you back.

Suddenly, from behind you, there is a burst of brilliant green energy.  You feel it like the warmth of Jake’s hands on your back, supporting you, and pushing you forward.  And you hear his thoughts in your head and in your heart. 

_I believe in you.  I love you, Dirk._

It’s all you need.

Your gaze hardens as you focus on Lord English.  With the extra push of Jake’s energy, you accelerate forward that last bit of the way.

In one swift motion, you plunge your sword through the thick shell of his skin.  You feel it crunch through the cartilage of his ribs and squish through the fleshy tissue beneath it.

Your entire blade glows when you finally pierce Lord English’s heart.

You gasp, feeling the heat of the energy burning your hands, but you don’t dare let go.  Holy energy. Dark energy.  Whatever the fuck Jake’s energy is.  It all swirls through the blade, coursing straight from the weapon into the demonic monstrosity right next to you.

Lord English roars that awful sound again, and he swipes at you in what you’d swear is slow motion again, trying to rip your body in half and knock you away.

You think about how long it took you to get to this moment.  About all of the sacrifice you and everyone else made along the way.  All the villages that were destroyed by Lord English.  The 1000 years of your life that you lost.

The ultimate sacrifice that both of your parents made for you and Dave.

You can’t let it all go to waste.  You can’t.

“ _That is right.  Do not let this cycle continue.  Do not let the billions of lives that have been lost continue to grow in number._ ”

You recognize that voice.  You want to laugh and cry at the same time, but you do neither.  You’re not even sure if he will hear you, but you think back, “ _I don’t plan to give up.  I haven’t this far, have I?_ ”

“ _Of course you have not.  You are a STRIDER._ ”

He can hear you.  He can fucking hear you, and you think that you might be crying.  But hell if you know, because the poisonous essence surrounding Lord English is thick as paste now.  It’s sticking to your body, to your skin.  It’s in your hair and in your eyes.  You can’t really see anymore, but you continue to cling to the burning handle of your blade, pushing it deeper into Lord English’s heart.

You feel it as Lord English’s claws tear into your back, but you don’t let go. Instead, you grunt and think back, “ _I’ve missed you, Dad.  You and mom._ ”

“ _I am so proud of you, Dirk.  Of everything you have done.  I read in your mind that you would accomplish these things long ago, but I am so happy to have seen them come to fruition._ ”

“ _Is Mom there too?_ ” you think, trying to ignore the sharp pain of Lord English’s claws as they tear into your body. You’re aware that all of this is probably happening within the course of a second or two, but it feels like so much longer.

“ _Your mother’s soul was human and has been free since she passed away,_ ” your father informs you.  “ _Lord English can only consume demonic souls.  Finish him, Dirk.  Set all of our souls free._ ”

You grimace at the pain exploding through your body, but you dutifully continue to hold on, shoving the blade as deeply as you can into Lord English’s body.  Finally, you reach the hilt, and you know you can go no further.

“ _I love you, son._ ”

Suddenly, you feel a deep shock run through Lord English’s body, through his claws, and into your back.  He spasms.  He stops. 

Half a second later, you hear the sound of the gunshot that was fired, catching up to the bullet that you know must be lodged in Lord English’s brain.

You hear shots fired again.  And again.  And again.

With each shot, you feel a deep pulsation from the monster next to you.  He roars a loud, terrible honking roar.

You hear the glass from the glyph Jake drew in the sand shattering all around you, exploding up in to the air and every direction.  Some of the pieces just barely graze by your face. Some shards embed themselves in your skin.  You wince and bear it, like everything else.

And slowly, far too slowly, you feel his evil essence begin to recede. 

Lord English falls to his knees, dragging you down with him.  You fall into the sand and glass, still clinging onto the sword, and the monster falls on top of you.

It’s heavy.

It’s dark.

It’s suffocating.

You don’t know how long you’re lying in the sand with Lord English slowly dying on top of you.  All you’re aware of is the thick evil surrounding you. 

There is no light. 

There is no Jake.

Only darkness.

And then.

Slowly, you feel the burden begin to lessen.  The souls of all those demons that were trapped inside Lord English begin to detach from his body, flying away to freedom.  Passing on to the next realm.

The weight on top of you begins to lighten.

The world begins to feel less like a dour weight.

And then you feel it.

Jake.

You feel him beside you, pulling you up through the darkness.

You feel his arms around you, feeding you strength, light, hope, and love.

And slowly, the world comes back into view.

The first thing you see when you open your eyes is Jake.  He looks so worried, but when you moan lightly, he smiles a radiant smile that is more beautiful than the dawning rays of the sun.

He laughs and pulls you into a tight hug.  You can feel him trembling around you as he whispers, “we did it Dirk.”

Then he throws his head up to the sky and laughs.  The look of happiness on his face fills your soul with joy as he screams to the open air, “WE DID IT!!!!”

You smile.  You want to laugh with him and shout and throw him in the air with happiness, but you’re way too weak for any of that right now.  The most you can muster is gently wrapping one arm around his torso, pulling him into a loose hug.  Quietly, you murmur back, “yeah we did.  Never fucking doubted.”

Jake finally seems to realize how badly you’re hurt.  You see that concerned expression on his face again.  You don’t ever want him to look like that.  Especially not because of you.

“Chill,” you try to tell him softly. “I’ll heal.”

You feel his lips press gently to yours, giving you life, love, and the energy that you so desperately need.  You can tell that Jake doesn’t have too much of his own to spare after that battle, but it’s enough to make you not feel like total shit anymore.

The sword you used to kill Lord English falls out of your hands as he picks you up and carries you away.

* * *

 

**Dirk == > Live Happily Ever After** 

You spend the next few days on the island with Jake.  Now that he doesn’t have to contain Lord English anymore, you feel the energy within him quickly rising. 

The day after your fight with Lord English, Jake’s strong enough to feed you all you need to get back on your feet again.  He gives you all the life and love you could possibly hope for.  You make love on the beach, surrounded by the ocean, in the warmth of the tropical sun, and beneath the gentle light of the stars.

For the first time ever, Jake shows you just how much he loves you beneath the light of the full moon.  It fills your heart with the greatest joy when you feel that there is no trace of restraint or sorrow in his soul.

Every day, you wake up the happiest person in the universe, because you know Jake loves you.

He loves you he loves you he loves you. 

And you’ve never been more in love with him.

As the days pass by, you sense the energy and power within Jake rising to astronomical levels.  You’re sure he could fill the solar system with the radiant light of his bright emerald energy.

Then finally, one day, he leads you out to the beach.  His soul is still filled with happiness and love, but you can feel a small seed of sorrow beginning to build within him.  He pulls you into a tight hug, then kisses you like his life depends on it.

You gently return the kiss, then rest your forehead on his.  Softly, you ask, “Jake, what’s wrong?”

Jake sighs, and you can tell that he really doesn’t want to answer you.

Gently, you rub circles into his back and pull him closely to you.  “Whatever you have to say, go ahead and say it.  I’ll never stop loving you.”

“I know,” Jake says quietly.  “I won’t ever stop loving you either.  But this—”

You sigh softly, holding him close.  “If we can beat Lord English together, we can overcome anything.”

“I suppose. Very well,” he says, though he doesn’t look like he completely believes it.

You wait for him.  It takes your boyfriend several moments to work up to whatever he has to say.  You don’t read his thoughts.  You want him to tell you on his own.

And finally, he does.

“I have to leave now,” Jake says, his voice full of regret.

“Where are you going?” you ask, not so eager to lose him after all this time. “I’ll come along.”

“I really don’t think you’ll want to.  You never did before,” Jake chuckles quietly and sighs deeply.  A moment or two passes by before he finally explains, “Dirk, I am a First Guardian, charged with protecting the entire _universe_.” 

You knew that.  You knew that, but you’d kind of put that out of your mind for a while.  You had so many other things to think about.  So many other far more important things.

His green eyes flick over to you when he asks, “have you ever wondered why I stayed on this one little planet?”

Your brow furrows, and you wonder if maybe it wasn’t what you had suspected after all.  Maybe Jake didn’t stay here because of you.  Maybe you were just that self-absorbed and conceited to think so.

“I stayed because it took nearly all my power to trap Lord English within my body,” Jake explains. “I couldn’t go anywhere else.”

What an idiot you were, to think that you mattered that much to Jake.  To think that he would care enough about you to stay.

Even though you don’t voice those thoughts, Jake seems to catch on.  As he’s proven lately, he’s far more clever than he usually lets on.  He raises an eyebrow at you and says, “of course, I had a bit of an incentive to stay.”  To make his point, he punctuates that remark with a quick peck on your cheek.

That bastard. 

Jake’s expression turns to one of sympathy and sadness.  Softly, he says, “I know in the past, you haven’t wanted to come on my adventures with me.  And, well, this is one bully of an adventure, so to speak.  I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to go on this one either.”

How could he think that?  How could he think you wouldn’t want to come along? To be with him forever?

But suddenly you realize that you haven’t exactly given him a reason to think you would.  How many times have you broken Jake’s heart by telling him you wouldn’t adventure with him?  You count the number of times, and your soul is filled with grief.

You even did it to him the day you first met him.

Jake sighs, the breath lingering on his lips before he says, “Dirk, I love you. You know that I will always come back for you.”

“Don’t bother,” you say quickly, and you feel the trepidation and dread that instantly spikes in your boyfriend.  But that disappears when you pull down your shades, letting him see into your soul and allowing yourself to smile.  With conviction, you say, “you’ll never have to come back for me, because I’m never leaving you again.  Wherever you go in this universe, I’ll go too.”

Jake laughs, and there are tears in his eyes as he asks, “truly?”

You nod at him and add, “I even got a fucking free pass to Prospit.”

“Prospit is the least of your concerns,” he murmurs.  “There are worlds with more danger than you have ever dreamed of.  Places that—”

Quickly, you lean in and silence him with a kiss.  Jake melts into your arms, and you hold him in a rapt embrace.  When you pull back, you look implicitly into his eyes and say, “I mean it, Jake.  Anywhere you go, I’ll follow you.  We’ll travel the universe together and have the _grandest adventures_.”

You think you actually feel your skin burning up from the happiness that radiates off your boyfriend. His arms wrap around you with a crushing hug and he lifts you into the air, twirling you around because he’s just _that fucking happy_.

Eventually, Jake puts you back down.  His voice is gentle and it quivers a bit as he says, “I’ve waited a thousand years to hear you say that, Dirk.”

“And I’ve waited a thousand years to say it,” you respond, pulling back so that you can look into his beautiful emerald eyes.  “Jake English, you’ve given my heart the hope that I never thought it would have again.  Would you like to go on an adventure together?”

Jake smiles that adorable bucktooth smile with which you have fallen so deeply in love and says, “I’d like nothing better.”

Both of you have the same idea, and your lips meet with a kiss that is both sweet and filled the passion of a thousand year’s separation.  Jake’s love pours into your very soul, and yours into him.  You know that whatever may happen in the future that nothing will ever tear you apart again.

You both pull away, but the happiness lingers in your eyes as you gaze fondly at each other.  Jake is the first to speak up, as he casually says, “so, I hear that the horsehead nebula is lovely this time of the year.  Care for a visit?”

“Let’s do it,” you agree, letting his happiness flood you and fill your soul with the most delicious warmth you have ever felt.  “First can we make a pit stop by Haven?  I should probably do the responsible thing and let Dave know I’ll be gone for a while. Little shit won’t know what to do without me there.”

Jake laughs, “of course.  I’d travel anywhere for you.”

It brings a smile to your lips and happiness that you know will stay in your soul for a long time to come.  As you leave together, off to explore the mysteries of the universe with Jake by your side, you know that you’ll never be hopeless and heartless again.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU MADE IT!!! I MADE IT!!! WE ALL MADE IT!!! =D
> 
> Congrats on finishing quite possibly one of the longest stories you will ever read. This baby took me about a year to write (Microsoft Word says I spent 12.5 WEEKS writing and editing it!!! Granted, I’m sure that’s an overestimation, BUT STILL.) 
> 
> I really hope that you’ve enjoyed reading Hopeless and Heartless as much as I’ve loved writing it!
> 
> After the last chapter, I received a fucking OCEAN of love, and it came at the best time. Those of you who took the time to write me an essay, and even those of you who jotted down a quick note, please know that I am so thankful for your words of encouragement and love. 
> 
> Everyone who has ever taken the time to talk to me, send comments, draw artwork, do character ask-blogs, and read this gigantically long story, please know how very much I appreciate you. I can’t possibly list all of the names here, because we’d be here all day. But, I’d like to thank Chibiedo, Sachi, and Acyl for ALL of the time you have given me. Seriously, days? Weeks? You’ve given me so much of your time, and I can’t thank you enough!
> 
> For those of you saddened and crying that this is the end, know that this is not the end for Dirk and Jake! I have a few bonus epilogue chapters planned, though I can’t promise anything about my updating schedule from this point on. I’ll be one busy chica, but I will try to squeeze some writing in when I can. 
> 
> Check my tumblr for updates on life and stories! Or if you just want to talk to me. I’m a pretty friendly person, if I do say so myself. Find me here! http://lateniteslacker.tumblr.com/
> 
> Speaking of writing, I aim to make my next full length story original work. Fanfiction is a beautiful thing, but I finally have the courage to take the next step into the unknown. I’ve gained that strength thanks to all of you.
> 
> Through the course of writing this story, I’ve heard several times that my writing is good enough to be published. I’ve heard that from so many of you, more people than I’ve ever heard it from before. It’s truly inspiring and uplifting, and it’s filled me with the courage and strength to forge ahead with my writing. Thank you all so much. I can’t possibly thank you enough!
> 
> Never before did I dream that I’d have such devoted fans. I didn’t think I could finish a story with this much depth and gravity. I didn’t believe I had the strength to continue this story, despite all the challenges life threw my way. 
> 
> But I did.
> 
> Life isn’t easy. We all have our obstacles to overcome, but they are not insurmountable. As I said last chapter, please don’t ever let fear hold you back from anything you truly desire to accomplish.
> 
> I know I’m not going to let it hold me back anymore. And now it’s your turn. Let’s both make our dreams a reality.
> 
> Have hope. Have heart. 
> 
> You’ve got this.


	32. Bonus Epilogue Chapter 1: Ascend

**Dirk == > Travel the Universe with Jake**

Yeah, you’re so ready to do that.

When you tell Dave your plan, he bitches for ten minutes nonstop.  “—fuckin’ hard enough dealin’ with Karkat and his shit every day. Like fuck he was annoying before but I didn’t have to actually _talk_ to him on a _daily basis_ , and now I’m finally getting to see what a douchelord he really is—” Dave rambles, pacing around his office while you and Jake sit on the black leather couch that is admittedly far more comfortable than the one you used to have in this room.

“Fuck you, Strider!” Karkat’s voice drifts in from down the hallway.

“Not till you grow a bigger dick, Vantas!” Your little brother growls back loudly, and you can sense the deep frustration and annoyance behind his voice. “So I have to deal with _that_.  And don’t get me _started_ on Betty—”

Dave finally stops when John pulls him into a tight hug from behind.  His fairy boyfriend is more or less Dave’s height now, and if it weren’t for his bright blue pixie wings and unnaturally blue eyes, John would blend in beautifully with regular humans.  “Dave, you’re getting worked up,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into Dave’s shirt and lightly kissing his neck.

Your little bro realizes it’s true and sighs in defeat.  Then, he looks at you and asks, “why do you have to go?  Can’t Jake just take care of the universe on his own?”

“I could,” Jake offers softly, placing his hand on top of yours.

“No,” you say with a sense of finality.  “I won’t leave you to do this alone.”

Dave sighs again.  “I thought you’d say that. Fuck.”

“Look, I know this job is difficult.  I did it for centuries.  There will be times you want to rip out your perfect hair in anger, but there will be rewarding times too.  Remember that whole living thing?  Yeah.  That’s pretty sweet sometimes,” you tell Dave seriously.  “Sure, all these guys can be a pain in the ass, but people like Karkat have your back.  You know that they’ll help you.”

Jake squeezes your hand lightly.  “You’re so inspiring, did I ever tell you that?”

Your boyfriend’s words leave a warm happy feeling in your chest like they usually do.  “And with that, I leave you to it.  Go for the gold, lil’ man!”

You think you hear Dave swearing as you make a hasty escape through the Derse portal in the closet.

When you land in Derse, you’re reminded that you haven’t actually used this particular portal in a very long time.  You land on top of a pile of stuff from Haven, before you burnt it down.  Some of the things you know that you threw through here aren’t here anymore.  They’re back in Haven where they belong.  Dave must have come scavenging through your things at some point.  But sitting on top of the pile of stuff is the last thing you remember throwing through. 

With a small sad smile, you pick up the golden plaque with “BRO STRIDER” engraved on it.  The one Dirk gave you long ago.  The brother you will never see again.

Before you have a chance to feel too bad about losing him, you feel Jake’s hand on your forearm.  When you look up at him, you see Jake’s own sad smile mirroring your own.  “He’s not gone, you know. Not really.”

“English, if you dare get cheesy on me—” you warn.

Jake, naturally, doesn’t listen.  He does the cheesiest thing possible and places a hand over your heart.  “Dirk lives on in here.”

“I’d give you points for ironies, but that was totally unironic, wasn’t it?” you sigh.

“You bet your bottom it’s genuine!” Jake says, laughing lightly.  You both share a quiet chuckle for a couple moments before his expression again settles into a complacent sadness.  “You know I loved Dirk, and I still do love him, through you.  You are him, and I will never stop loving both him and you.”

This just got weirdly complicated.  But you shake the feeling off and instead lean in to give Jake a quick peck on the lips.  “Love you too.”

You both stand there in that darkened room among all the junk from Haven you deemed worthy of saving.  You stand there for quite some time, feeling Jake weave his arms around you and pull you close.  Feeling the warmth of his love.

And finally, you decide it’s time to move on.  Dave can handle this now.  Your baby bro isn’t a baby anymore.  He’s a verifiable leader, and you have to trust that he will do the right thing.

You know he will.  Dave’s a Strider, after all.

“So, the horsehead nebula.  Is that where you wanted to go?” you murmur.

You feel Jake hesitate for a moment, his fingers gripping your back a bit.  Something isn’t right. 

Fucking damn it. 

Just when you thought all of the kinks of your weird relationship were worked out.  What the fuck is it this time?

“Jake, is there something you want to tell me?” you ask him slowly.

“I think, perhaps, there may be something you would want to know,” Jake agrees in the most noncommittal way possible.

“Dish it out, bro,” you encourage him.

Jake pulls away from you and looks around.  “There is something I should tell you, but perhaps we could find a place that is more private?  Dave could drop in on us at literally any moment.”

He could.  You don’t put it past the little shit to cannonball into your pile of stuff like a kid at a pool.  You nod and take Jake by the hand, leading him out of your junk room and through Derse’s castle.  “Yeah, I know a place.”

As you walk through the purple hued castle, you wonder just what Jake could have to tell you.  What could possibly be filling him with this trepidation that you feel radiating off him?  Why is he suddenly _scared_?

You’re not sure you want to know the answer to that question.  But at the same time, you do.  You want to know everything there is to know about Jake. You want to be everything to him the way he is everything to you.

You bring Jake to that room in Derse that the Condesce still reserves just for you.  The room she originally gave your father.  The room you let your brothers sleep 500 years of their lives away in.

Quietly you shut and lock the door behind you.  Then you turn to Jake and say, “nobody will bother us here.  Now, what’s making you feel like you just lost the universe’s biggest game of poker?”

Jake opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.  He scrutinizes the floor for a long time before finally looking into your eyes.  When he does, there’s a guilty expression that worries you further.  “I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you, Dirk.”

Oh fuck.  You hate it when conversations start with that.  It’s never a good thing.

And really, you _thought_ that you were past this point.  You _thought_ that after 1000 years of _pining_ for each other, defeating _Lord English_ together, and risking your _very lives_ for each other, that there would be no more secrets between you.

And yet, here Jake stands, looking at you with pity in his vivid green eyes.  “Dirk, when you said that you would travel the universe with me, I was—” Jake laughs softly, looking aside and shaking his head.  There’s a smile on his face and moisture in the corner of his eyes as he thinks of the memory.  “I was overcome with _happiness_.  It’s what I’ve longed to hear you say since the day we met.”

He pauses, and you decide to prompt him further.  “I haven’t changed my mind, if that’s what you’re worried about.  I still want to go on that adventure together.  It’s long overdue.”

“Oh, quite so!  I definitely agree,” Jake laughs lightly again, then turns his gaze back up to you.  “But I’m afraid that is not possible.”

The words crash into you like a cold ocean wave.  That terrible feeling of dread hits you, like you’re dreaming and running away from something _awful_ but you just can’t move.  That’s how you feel, frozen in place, standing in your old Derse room and staring at your boyfriend with his mournful expression.  “No, Jake—no.”  Your own voice sounds foreign to you as you mutter those words, strangulated, as your throat constricts with worry. You can’t lose him.  Not after all this time.

“I’m afraid it’s so.  I don’t doubt that you wish to go with me, and believe me, I want you to come along more than anything but,” Jake says, his words rushing out like a fervent apology.  “—but I didn’t think about the logistics of things.  I didn’t think about the fact that you—if you travel with me you—”

Jake gets choked up, and now you do see tears forming in his eyes.  You feel the grief welling deep inside him, and it isn’t hard for you to guess what he’s going to say.  Still, you force yourself not to pick the thought out of his head.  Instead, you let him finish on his own. “I’ll what, Jake?”

He looks into your eyes, and they’re the saddest you think you have ever seen them.  The only time he looked quite as distraught was after you had both been locked away by the Midnight crew in that doomed dimension.  Right before he released Lord English on the world, sacrificing himself so that he could save you.

“You’ll die,” Jake finishes, his voice barely a whisper.

Silence settles in between you both for several long seconds.  Jake’s words linger in the air like a thick impassive cloud.

“Look, I know you said that there are terrible things out there in the universe, but believe me, I can handle myself,” you say in a somewhat chiding voice.  “Remember that whole killing Lord English thing we did together?”

Your inner sarcasm has come out.  You feel the Dirk from long ago rising in you, the petulant child who would angst the night away to get his way.

You can’t help it.  You don’t want to break down in front of him, but that’s exactly what you feel like doing because **_fuck_** you are not going to lose him again!  After all this time, after all this heartbreak, you are NOT losing Jake English again.

“That’s not what I meant.  I know you can fight.  I know that you will be invaluable in keeping peace in the universe, but Dirk, you can’t,” he shakes his head and murmurs.  “You are an incubus, and in this unrealized state, your body won’t last.”

The cold wave comes back again as Jake hugs you suddenly, burying his face into your chest and clinging to you like his life depends on it.  Your arms go around him instinctively, and you bury your own face into his dark hair. 

You breathe him in.  You love him.  You never want to let him go.

And after a few second’s worth of self-pity, you finally force yourself to _think_.  Something about what Jake said felt a little off to you.  Like there’s something you might be able to do after all.

Finally, you pick it out.  “Unrealized state?  What do you mean by that, Jake?”

“Dirk, do you know how long the average incubus lives?  Barring death from accidental and extraneous causes, of course,” Jake asks you, pulling back so that he can see your face.  When it’s clear that you don’t know, he sighs and answers, “a _very_ long time.  Hundreds of thousands of years.  Why, by incubus standards, you are still very young!”

“Are you callin’ me a kid?” you ask him wryly.

“No I’m not!” Jake laughs softly.  “What I’m saying is, incubi typically progress further in their abilities as they age.  I’m certain you noticed the difference between the younger version of you that you raised, and you yourself now.”

Jake pauses for a moment, as if checking off a list mentally.  “Yes, that statement was correct.  You’re quite complicated, Dirk.  Did you know that?”

“I did,” you agree, still trying to place together his meaning.  “So, I imagine there is a reason you brought this up?”

“Yes,” he agrees.  “Did you notice any differences in Damara, a succubus of your species, from when you first fought her compared to when you last fought her?”

You dig back into your memory, and slowly nod.  “She always had horns and claws, but this last time she also had wings.”

“Did she?” Jake marvels.  “I’m afraid I didn’t get to see that, but my, she has evolved quickly.”

“Damara is thousands of years old.  I think,” you murmur.  “I’m not really sure just how old she is.  She wasn’t exactly forthcoming with that information.”

“I would agree with you,” Jake says. “Gauging from her level of abilities, I would place her around 25,000 years old.”

“Damn, that bitch has been around a long time,” you murmur.

“She’s been after Lord English for ages,” Jake sighs in agreement.  “Fortunately, that is no longer a problem.”

“We’re getting distracted,” you remind him.

“Ah, yes,” he agrees.  “My point is, a succubus with Damara’s abilities still would not be able to withstand universal travel.  If she had perhaps another couple hundred thousand years, she might gain those abilities.”

It takes you less than half a second to do the math.  “You want me to wait 225,000 years before I can travel with you?”

“I—”  Jake murmurs weakly.

“No,” you say firmly.  “Fuck no.”

“Dirk, I didn’t mean to upset you, but—” he attempts again, but you don’t let him continue.

“I’m _not_ waiting that long to go with you!  Do you realize how hard it was to wait 1,000 years?” you ask, certain that the frustration and anger is bleeding into your voice now.

Sure enough, Jake’s eyes widen a bit with surprise.  “I understand!  Truly I do!  But I _don’t want to lose you, Dirk!!! **I can’t let you die!!!**_ ”

You see the panic in Jake’s eyes, and you’re ashamed to say that part of you is _glad_.  You want him to feel as terrible about this as you feel now.

But an instant later, you can’t believe that you had that thought.  You love Jake and don’t ever want to see him hurting like he is now.

Instinctively, your arms go around him again.  A moment later, you feel his circle around your torso and pull you close.

You hold each other for a very long time, neither of you willing to say a word.

Finally, you murmur, “there has to be a way.  You said Damara progressed quickly.  There has to be a way I can too.”

Jake’s breathing stills, and you feel the tense aura around him.  He scrutinizes your words, and you can’t help it.  You’re diving into his thoughts like a champion Olympian.  But even though you have the skill to read his mind, it doesn’t mean that you can make sense of it.

In fact, you can’t.  Jake’s thoughts are something unique to Jake, you think.  His ideas are complex and revolve around things you have never heard of.  Things that don’t have a name.

Not in your language anyway, or any that you have heard of. 

Things that only have a name in Jake’s language.

Things that apply solely to Jake.

Part of you is excited about the concept that your boyfriend is so different from you.  So vastly learned and with a very exclusive set of abilities.  Part of you is terrified for the exact same reasons.

Realizing that there is so much out there that you don’t know makes you uncomfortable.  Knowing that it’s about _your boyfriend_ drives you crazy.

Finally, his whirlwind of thoughts begins to recede into a gentle calm.  When he looks into your eyes, it’s with a look of apprehension.  But behind that nervous smile is an overwhelming amount of _hope_.

Your heart melts a little.  You couldn’t love him more.

“Dirk,” he says tentatively.  “I think there is a way I can make that happen.  It’s risky, but I think I might be able to help you ascend faster.”

Correction.  You could love him more. 

And you do.  Right fucking now, you do.

“I don’t care if it’s risky.  You know I’d risk everything to be with you,” you tell him firmly.

Jake nods, as if he were expecting you to say that.  “Very well, we’ll need a place to work—” he murmurs, his eyes darting furtively around the room.  They land on the bed and his eyes light up with excitement.  “Ah!  Perhaps the bed.”

The same bed you put yourself and Dave to sleep in 1000 years ago.  The same bed your father probably slept in after long days of demon hunting.  You don’t know much about your dad, but you’ve guessed at a few things over the years.  This bed has a lot of history.

Time to make more.

Hesitantly, you sit on the bed and look up at Jake for guidance.  You don’t think you’ve ever been this uncomfortable on a bed before.  Usually this is your fucking territory.  You’re an incubus. You call the shots.  You run the whole business.

But right now you have no idea what Jake has planned.  You couldn’t even comprehend the thoughts that were running through his head.  “Is this ok?” You ask him tentatively.

Jake nods, taking a seat beside you.  “That should be fine.  I’ve umm—” he murmurs, glancing away for a second before glancing back at you.  A light blush dusts his cheeks most adorably as he says, “I’ve never done this before.”

“That makes two of us,” you respond with a small chuckle.

He laughs back softly, making his eyes crinkle in a way you absolutely love.  “I shall do my best.  Please be aware that this may be a little uncomfortable.  The ascent will change your body in many ways.  You have seen some of what it did to Damara. There will be more.”

You’re tempted to ask what, but you keep your mouth shut.  You have a feeling that if Jake isn’t telling you, you may not want to know just yet.  You’ll find out soon enough anyway.

“A-also,” Jake stammers, his flush deepening.  “You may want to remove your clothing.  Your sunglasses as well.  I would hate for any of it to get wrecked.”

You look at him wryly and murmur, “Jake if you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

“Getting you naked is not my primary objective!” he exclaims loudly enough to make you smirk.

“But it’s _one_ of your objectives,” you point out.  You’re a pro at removing clothing now, and you get yours off in a matter of seconds.  You slide off your shades and place them atop the pile on the floor.

Your smirk grows as his blush manages to spread further. “That has absolutely nothing to do with the case at hand!  If you would please refrain from your sexual innuendos, we might actually accomplish something today.”

“I’d say every night is an accomplishment,” you murmur, laughing as Jake growls and shoves you over on the bed.

He starts looking at you curiously, and you start to wonder if he actually does want sex.  Your hopes are dashed when he speaks again. “Actually, could you get fully onto the bed?” Jake asks.  You hear thoughts of whatever he is planning to do in his head again and quickly comply. 

Once you’re on the bed, he shifts and lays in the bed beside you.  When you are both on your sides facing each other, he takes your hands in his own.  Gently, he laces your fingers between each other’s and presses your palms together.  You can feel the warmth of his overpowering viridian energy welling beneath his skin as he concentrates, gathering it together.

It excites you and scares you just a little.  Whatever Jake is planning is going to be _big_.

Jake looks at you, and his eyebrows furrow slightly, regret in his voice as he quietly cautions you, “Dirk, this will probably hurt quite a bit.  And I might not be able to control how fast this changes you.  If it gets out of hand you could—”

You sense the sadness building in your boyfriend and you can’t take it anymore.  Quickly, you lean in and kiss him gently on the lips. He returns the kiss like his life depends on it.  It’s a little ironic, you think, seeing that soon your life will be completely in his hands.  Literally.

“Jake, I trust you,” you tell him simply.  “I always have and I always will.”

You half expect Jake to break down and cry like in a TV soap-opera, but he doesn’t.  Of course he doesn’t.  He’s your Jake, and you’ve been through thick and thin together.  He only smiles sadly at you, his way of saying that he understands.

“I love you Dirk,” Jake whispers.

It’s the last thing you hear before you feel his familiar emerald energy invade your body.  And that’s exactly what you would call it right now.  You love Jake and his delicious energy more than life (or death) itself.  You never thought you could get _too much_ of it.

You were wrong.

You can’t help the screams that leave your throat as the lava-hot fire of his energy courses through your body, traveling through the natural pathways of the veins and arteries and deep into your very cells.

Though it’s Jake’s energy, something feels different about it this time.  It’s as if he’s changing it, modifying it to behave in a certain way that you can’t explain.  You try to read his thoughts.  You try to stop screaming.  You try to do _anything logical at all_.

You can’t.

Only the ever present loving pressure of Jake’s hands on yours keeps you grounded to reality.  Your fingers are still laced together, and you feel his thumb rubbing against yours reassuringly.

You try to open your eyes, but you can’t do that.  You want to see him so badly.  You want to see Jake and know that he’s there and that everything is going to be all right.

Just when you think it can’t get any worse, it does.

Suddenly, lightning-caliber pain shoots through your bones again and again, settling into the top of your head and working its way all the way down your spine.  You feel the bones of your skull shifting first, a dull grinding pain that erupts into a pounding headache as _something_ twists out of your head.

Then, the lightning pain travels down your spine to your back, where again you feel your bones shifting and cracking as they reconfigure themselves into a tight hard mass around your mid-back.  The pain and pressure builds and builds.  You’re certain that the Condesce must hear your cries of agony all the way down in her throne room by now.

Your throat is already raw from screaming, but you cry out anew when something _pushes_ out of your back, suddenly existing and being another source of feeling and pain.  As the things flop on the soft bed, it feels as if you were dipping them into a vat of acid.

It burns.  It hurts.  It’s the worst pain of your life.

And it’s still not over.

You feel the electrically laced emerald energy travel down to the end of your spine, creating yet another source of torment.  Somehow your spine extends, breaking your skin and making another outlet of anguish.  You don’t have time to focus on it, though, because that tormenting energy that you hate and love is moving on.

You think you hear Jake talking to you.  You can’t tell what he’s saying, but you can feel the sorrow and sympathy pouring out of him.  His hands never let go of yours as his energy surrounds you, infiltrating every pore of your skin, spreading and thickening your spiritual energy around your body everywhere until you can’t stand it anymore.

You’re going to break.  You’re literally going to break apart if this keeps up any longer. 

Your body can’t take it anymore.

You can’t—

_You can’t—_

And suddenly the burning agony recedes.  The lightning-like pain slowly vanishes, leaving you feeling paresthesia, numbness, and tingling all over your body.  It’s a welcome contrast to the previous misery.  Somehow you stop screaming and lay in a limp pile on the bed.

Your body feels like a boneless puddle of ooze.  Your brain is fried past the point of recognizing anything around you.

But slowly, you begin to come back to yourself.

You notice the hands on yours first.

Jake’s hands.  Warm, holding yours tightly.

And you hear his voice, gentle, calm, speaking slowly to you.  It doesn’t make any sense, though.  You’re only catching parts of his words.  “—irk—love you—ease don’t—please Dirk—come back—”

You moan softly and feel Jake’s hands tense on yours immediately.

And slowly, you open your eyes.

The first thing you see are Jake’s bright emerald eyes looking at you.  He’s so beautiful it should be illegal.

Slowly, your vision spreads and you see him lying beside you, feel his fingers rubbing your hands gently.  You see him smile tentatively and say, “Dirk?”

Instantly, you feel the gravitating need to _have Jake_.  It grips you and pulls you deeply from within and **_fuck_** you _need him **now**_ **.**  

It’s so sudden and so strong that you’re shocked and actually pull away from him quickly.  It makes your whole body suddenly convulse in residual pain, and you remember that things _happened_ just a few minutes ago.  Or hours ago.  You’re really not sure how much time passed.  You’re not even sure what really happened.

You want to ask Jake how long it was, but when he looks at you with confusion in his eyes, you are so overwhelmingly drawn to him that you can’t help crashing your lips together forcefully.  You’re quick to deepen the kiss, yearning for his touch, his taste, his _everything_.

You _need Jake_.  Your body is _aching_ for him. _Craving him_.

And Jake’s giving it to you.  You can sense him trying his hardest to give you the energy you so crave from him as he kisses you back.  It’s not until you notice this reaction from Jake that you realize just how ravenous you are.

Whatever Jake did, it left you starving.  You don’t hesitate to reach down and grab him through his clothes.

“D-Dirk!”  Jake exclaims, tearing his lips from yours for a moment.  He places his hands flat against your chest, stopping you from claiming his lips again. “Wait Dirk!”

**_Why?_** _Why should you wait?_  

It isn’t until after several moments of glaring that you finally realize you’re growling at him.  It’s a low, deep rumble that sounds downright _predatory_.

You force yourself to stop.  It’s difficult, much harder than you thought it would be, but you make yourself let go of him too.  Slowly, you release him from your grip, and even though you don’t need to breathe, you find yourself taking several ragged breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

But you can’t.  Something inside you is keyed up to high gear.  Like the continuous ticking of clockwork machinery, it keeps chipping away at your resolve, making you want Jake more and more.

And suddenly, you’re scared.  What the fuck is happening to you?  This is different than your usual hunger.  This is something else.  Something that is making you want to _claim_ Jake.  To make him _yours_.  To _take him_ and _dominate him_.

“I know you want sex right now—no, I know you _need_ it, but please wait,” Jake pleads, his eyes growing sad.  You can tell that it’s difficult for him to keep going, but he continues to beg you.  “Right now, you’re not you, Dirk.  And if we have sex before you come back to yourself, you might not ever be _you_ again.  Please— please wait.”

He’s talking to you, telling you these things, but you don’t think you fully understand.  What’s wrong with having sex now?  You feel fine.

Jake’s voice becomes more desperate, more choked up, as he continues to try and explain this to you.  “It’s part of the risk every one of your species has, every time they get closer to their final form.  Every time something changes, there is a tendency to sway towards darkness, to letting the demon within take control of you completely.”

Why the fuck is he still talking?  Why won’t he just _fuck you_?

“And I just pushed you into going through _all_ of those at once,” he says.  Slowly, his fingers curl lightly into your skin and moisture again appears in the corner of his eyes.  “I knew your body could handle the change because you’re just…  you’re just so stubborn like that!”

He laughs, but you see the beginning of tears in his eyes.  Fuck, you want him but something in you is pinging at you from inside.  Like when Hal used to ping incessantly in your shades.  Something about this isn’t right.

“It’s your mind that I was worried about.  Your personality. _You_ ,” he murmurs again, holding you back when you try to reach for him again.  “I knew that there was a chance I could lose you to your inner incubus.”

Lose you?  Why is Jake worried about losing you?  You’re right here.

“I know what it’s like to be controlled,” Jake says quietly.  “It’s terrible.  I don’t ever wish that for anyone.  Especially not you.”

Why is he telling you about being controlled? What is he going on about?

“Dirk, I can tell you don’t understand what I’m saying,” he says sadly, removing one hand from his chest so that he can gently caress your cheek.  “You’re lost right now, but you can find your way back.  I believe you can.  I wouldn’t have even tried this if I didn’t think you could.”

The look in his eyes becomes pained, the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.  You want to kiss away those tears, to tell him it will be all right.  But as soon as the thought hits you, it leaves, and once again you’re overcome with an overwhelming need to _have_ him.

“If you were never to find your way back, if you were to become one of those demons we used to hunt together,” Jake pauses, his voice becoming choked up.  He closes his eyes, shaking his head.  “I couldn’t do it Dirk.  I don’t think Dave could either.  Please.  Please don’t leave us with this decision.”

Decision?  What is he talking about?

“Please come back to me, Dirk,” Jake says sadly.  When he opens his eyes, looking at you imploringly, a single tear falls down his cheek.  “I don’t want to lose you.  I love you.”

Suddenly, you’re overcome with a strange sensation.  Your heart reaches out to Jake, but at the same time, you’re filled with an overwhelming _anger_.  You hate that something is making Jake feel this way.

You love him, and you don’t ever want to see him crying like this.  Especially not over you, and you have a feeling this is over you.

The room is filled with sound, and after a few moments you realize that it’s your own deep throated growls.  You’re hyperventilating again, and your body is shaking as you finally start to fight _something_ inside you. 

You won’t let it take control of you.  You’re stronger than this.  You’re a fucking _Strider_. 

That’s right.  You’re a STRIDER.

You’re DIRK STRIDER.

You close your eyes and your world is filled with sound.

Finally, something within you begins to even out.  Jake’s words are starting to drift back to you, and they’re beginning to make sense.  But you don’t sense a demon within you.  You are that demon.  And you aren’t. 

Fuck, your life is so confusing.

Slowly, you open your eyes, and he’s there again, just like he was before. But he’s so much more beautiful this time.  His bright green eyes are filled with _feeling_ and it’s like his sadness and hope is _exploding out_ into you.  You’ve always been able to sense his emotions and feel them, but now it’s as if his feelings are truly your own.

It’s disorienting, and you wince.  Slowly, you reach for his hands.  He looks a little doubtful, but he allows you to remove them from your chest and your face.  Finding a bit of strength deep inside you, you squeeze his hands and smile.

“Dirk?” Jake asks tentatively.

“Miss me?” You murmur softly.  Your voice is hoarse, scratchier and deeper than before.  You almost don’t recognize it.  Of course, you have been screaming for a while now.

Gingerly, he inches closer to you and says, “is it really you?”

“You think anyone else could be this sexy?” you laugh back at him lightly.

You’re expecting him to admonish you for that, but it never comes.  Instead, there’s only a look of pure unadulterated joy as he says, “you have no idea how worried I was.”  Slowly, he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

This time, when you kiss him back, you feel the familiar flame of love flicker within you.  Like usual, you want him.  It’s stronger than normal, but it isn’t overwhelming and uncontrollable like it was earlier.

Still, Jake notices your hands shaking a bit with want as you restrain yourself.  He pulls away, and that sadness that you never want to see again is back in his eyes.  “I’m sorry I made you stop, Dirk.  Each ascention takes quite a bit of energy, and you just did them all at once.  I know you must be starving.  But I knew if we— _mated_ while you were in that state, that you might never have come back.”

“It’s ok, Jake.  Don’t apologize,” you say, punctuating your statement with a light kiss on his lips.  You feel the ravenous pull of hunger again, and you can’t stop from wincing a bit.  “I’d never want to put you and Dave in a position where you had to kill me either.  This whole living thing is kind of nice.”

Jake laughs, and you can tell that it’s laughter of relief.  He’s so happy that you’re back.  “I completely agree.”

There are no verbal cues between you two.  Nothing is spoken or communicated, but somehow you both instinctively know to lean in.  Your lips meet again and your kiss is one of tender love.  You can’t restrain yourself from pulling Jake’s energy to you, because you are a starving incubus, after all.  But Jake doesn’t seem to mind at all this time.  And as you place your hands at his waist, drawing him closer to you, he mirrors the action.

You realize that to get any further, Jake will have to remove his clothes too.  But when you slide your hands down, ready to help him out of his pants, something unusual happens.

Your fingernails get caught on something.  You think it’s Jake’s shirt.  What the fuck?

Unhappily, you break your kiss and look down.  Your eyes widen with surprise.

Your skin is dark gray.  How did you not notice that before?  And at the end of your fingers, you don’t have nails.

You have claws.  Sharp, deadly looking black claws. 

Fuck!  How are you supposed to pleasure Jake with these?

Jake notices you looking at your hands and smiles with bemusement.  “I think you should stand for a moment and look at yourself in the mirror,” he suggests.

You really don’t want to leave his side.  You’re quite addicted to the warm loving energy you’re pulling off him through your close contact, but you feel inclined to do what he says.  Grudgingly, you get up, finding that your center of balance is a little off from before.  You have to lean forward a little more.  You think you know why.

When you make it to the mirror above the dresser, your suspicions are confirmed.

You have wings.  Two dark leathery wings trail behind you looking every bit as bat-like and demonic as you thought they might.  You had hoped for soft feathery angel wings, similar to what Roxy and Jane have. 

Nope. No such luck.  Your wings remind you of the demon you are. 

So do your bright orange horns, which stick out from your skull in a way that makes you glad you stopped wearing that hat.  You don’t think your horns will ever fit underneath any hat.  Not even one of those ten gallon hats in old western movies.

Fuck.  You can’t go out in the public with these horns and wings.  Or that skin or those claws, and oh shit is that a _tail?_

It is.  When you try to move the appendage, your new tail whips up quickly and smacks you in the back of the head.  It wraps around the top of your head, and the tiny black barbed end dangles in front of your face.  You frown at it, picking it off your head carefully with your newly clawed hands.

Jake giggles from the bed, where you are pleased to note he’s now sitting naked.  “You’ll get used to it, I assure you!”

“Tell me there’s a way to undo this,” are the first words you say.

“There is,” he agrees, the mirthful smile still on his face.  “But it will take some time to learn.  Why do you want to change back?”

“This is ridiculous.  I look ridiculous,” you deadpan back at him.

“On the contrary!” he declares, smiling at you brightly.  “I’d say you look quite fetching!”

“Fetching?” you ask, taking out an imaginary notepad and pen.  You pretend to scribble onto your hand.  “Hang on a sec while I add that to the fantastical vocabulary of Jake English.”

“Oh come now! Fetching isn’t such an unusual word!” Jake laughs back. Then, he fixes you with a _look_ that makes your heart want to flutter and beat.  “Now, are you going to waste more time on my vocabulary or shall we satisfy that hunger of yours?”

You’re next to the bed in a flash, faster than you think you’ve ever moved before.  You stop, leaning over with your hands on either side of Jake, your face only a couple inches away from his.  Jake looks a little surprised, and even though you don’t think anything you do could scare him anymore, you still feel a little apologetic.

“Sorry,” you murmur, clenching your claws into the bed sheets on either side of him.  “I’m really fucking starving, and when you make offers like that, they’re hard to resist.”

Jake swallows, and you can tell he looks a little nervous.  You wonder why, considering just how much sex you’ve had already.  “You don’t need to restrain yourself anymore.  You’re free to do as you wish.  You know.  With me.”

He’s so fucking adorable it’s sinful.  You grin at him and before you can stop yourself, the words are out of your mouth.  “I wanna fuck you into this bed until you’re screaming my name so loud all of Derse hears.”

Jake’s cheeks go a deep shade of red, but he doesn’t disagree.  “If that’s—what you want to do.  Then by all means.  I know incubi have certain— _needs_ —regarding the method of having sex and certain— _positions_?   And that as a fully realized incubus you will have that need more often every now and then. And, oh _bully!_ This is rather awkward to talk about!”

“Then, with your permission, let’s stop talking about it and just _do it_ ,” you suggest, your voice sounding more gravelly than usual.

“My permission?” Jake asks, his interest piqued.  “Why Strider, you’ve never asked me for my permission before.”

“Because I wasn’t _whatever the fuck I am_ before,” you sigh, feeling your new wings flutter behind you in annoyance.  You don’t even realize it as your new tail curls around, the smooth side caressing Jake’s cheek like you _want to_ but have been restraining your hands from doing. 

Great. It’s got a mind of its own.  Fucking tail.

Jake chuckles a little, “I quite like what you are now.  Especially this affectionate tail of yours.”

You’re about to remark on that, but when Jake leans up and kisses you, he draws all of the words from your mouth.  Lovingly, he curls his fingers up into your hair and lies back onto the bed, pulling you down with him.

You’re quick to lean in, capturing that warm mouth, tasting him, _feeling him_. 

Jake is yours. All yours.  And you’re never giving him up.

In a way that you feel is almost feline and predatory, you crawl over to him, leaning down to claim his mouth again, pressing your body against his.  His dick is hard against yours, and you couldn’t be happier that you still turn him on.

Slowly, tantalizingly, you grind your arousal against his, and you watch as he shudders at the contact, ready for more.  Wanting more of that delicious reaction, you press yourself against him again and again.  You smile as you feel Jake’s need growing. 

He’s ready to be fucked.  Ready to be claimed.  He’s yours.

Your tail is already curling around his thigh, lightly circling his butt and giving away exactly where you want to go.  But now you’re faced with a little dilemma.  Claws.  It won’t be easy to prepare your lover with these talons on your fingers.

Fortunately, you’re more than just a one trick pony.

Smoothly, you lean back down, grasping him by the ankles and pushing his legs up.  When he tries to lift his head up to see what you’re doing, you place your hand on his chest, the tips of your claws making light contact with his skin.  “Stay where you are,” you command in a low almost sultry voice.

You hear Jake gulp and rest his head back against the bed.  Gently, you lift his feet up onto the bed and spread his legs apart, giving you a generous view of his delicious ass. 

“Keep your legs here,” you command again, and Jake exhales a shaky breath.  You feel the vibrations on the bed as he fervently nods in affirmation.

Careful not to puncture his skin, you spread his perfect bulbous butt cheeks apart with your hands and lean in to gently lick the hidden puckered ring of muscle beneath.

Instantly, Jake tenses, clenching around you, but you force his cheeks to stay open with your hands.  Your claws dig a little deeper into his tender skin, but not deeply enough to draw blood.  “Relax,” you tell him, trying to sound a little more gentle than before.  You don’t think you really do.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I-I know Strider, but this is so bloody awkward!  I’ve never had another man—or anyone—lick my ass before!”  Jake stammers, clenching his hands on the bedsheets beside you nervously.

“I know, just do your best,” you coo to him before leaning in and licking him again.  Jake tenses a bit, but not as much as last time. After circling his entrance with your tongue a few times, coating him in a generous helping of your saliva, you dip your tongue inside.

Jake gasps and tenses at the strange sensation.  You can feel his unease through his skin, as if his feelings were your own.  You always had that ability, but now it’s grown a thousand-fold.  You may as well be Jake English, laying on the bed, getting a rim-job from yourself.

Fuck it feels weird.  It’s not like _you’ve_ never experienced this before, but Jake hasn’t.  And even though this sensation isn’t new to you, it’s new to Jake.  It’s like you’re feeling another guy’s tongue in your ass for the first time again.

It turns you on so fucking much.

You take your time, stretching Jake out and filling him with your saliva.  You don’t want this to hurt him, and since you can’t use your hands on him, your tongue will have to suffice.  You’ll have to take the time to slowly make sure he’s ready.

For a starving incubus, you’re actually quite patient.  Temperance and time has taught you to take things slowly and enjoy the feelings you reap off your lover.  And you are so glad that you are taking the time to feel Jake.

You feel every time you enter Jake.  You feel when your tongue manages to brush against his prostate.  You feel that confliction between awkward pleasure and a burning desire to have more.

Finally, you feel Jake’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing you gently.  “Dirk—I think I’m ready,” he murmurs to you. 

If he’s ready you are more than fucking ready.  In a flash, you’ve withdrawn your tongue from him and moved back into position, leaning over him and placing the tip of your dick at his now dripping entrance.  “You mean that?” you rumbly lowly at him.  “This is your last chance to back out.”

You wondered if Jake would be hesitant to kiss you after what you just did, but he seems to have no qualms as he captures your lips with a tender kiss.  “I’m never leaving you again.”

Filled with passion and burning dedication from the alluring sound of his voice, you return the kiss and slowly press into him.

Jake shudders against you, his body pressing against yours and his fingers grasping wildly at the skin of your back.  You pause for a second, thinking you might have hurt him, but when he whines in protest, you keep going.

It takes so much longer than the last time.  Last time you took Jake was over 1000 years ago for you.  It wasn’t quite as long ago for Jake.  Of course, last time Jake didn’t waste any time sitting on your dick.  This time, you know that it’s going to take longer.

Because you’ve realized something else came along with your final incubus form.  Something that wasn’t apparent right away like your wings and your tail.

Your dick is bigger.  You suppose that comes with the territory of being a fully realized incubus.  You actually feel bad for your poor lover.

But Jake seems to be taking it like a champ.  He holds you tightly, making tiny little sounds as you continue to enter him bit by bit.  You hold him gently, running your claws through his hair and whispering to him about how well he’s doing.  You listen to the way he breathes, holding his breath for just a moment or two every time you move a bit.  When he relaxes back into his usual pattern, you know you’re clear to keep going.

And finally, you’re in.  All the way in.  And Jake’s still alive.  Not broken in half or bleeding. 

You can tell that he’s a little uncomfortable, but he isn’t in pain.  That’s what matters.  You have a feeling his discomfort will go away soon, but you keep yourself still inside him anyway and murmur, “you ok?”

“P-perfectly fine!”  he stammers, managing a small laugh.  “I daresay—you’ve _grown_ a little since the last time we did this.  And it isn’t as if there was anything subpar about you before.”

“I’d hate to be subpar,” you murmur apologetically.  Though it’s meant to be a little sarcastic, you actually do feel a little bad for Jake right now.  You don’t think most of your former lovers would have been able to handle you as you are now.

But Jake’s only response is more laughter as he says, “Dirk, nothing about you is ordinary.  I wouldn’t have you any other way.  Now shall we get to it, or are we going to laze the day away?”

Jake’s words make you smile.  Even though he’s clearly a little nervous about this, he’s eager to share this experience with you.  And quite honestly, you’re tired of holding yourself back from sharing it.

Slowly, you start to move inside him, watching his expression carefully for any signs of pain, and keeping your senses closely in-tune with his.  You can sense the shift in Jake’s feelings as you move inside him.  His discomfort is your own, which you expected.

He needs to relax a little more if he’s going to fully enjoy this.  Without a second thought, you carefully slide your hand between your bodies and firmly grasp his dick, careful not to let any of your claws scratch him.

It’s like magic.  As soon as you begin sliding your hand sensually up and down his stiff arousal, Jake’s breath begins to hitch, but this time in a good way.  It’s not from pain or discomfort, it’s from gentle licks of pleasure he’s feeling. 

Slowly, Jake relaxes.  As his body becomes more accustomed to yours, his discomfort fades away and is slowly replaced by the gentle canting of his hips.  Your boyfriend is eager for more of you, and you are definitely willing to give it to him.

It’s admittedly a little bit of a guilty thing, wanting Jake to feel good.  You love the way he looks when his eyebrows raise and contort as he feels varying levels of pleasure. You love the way his mouth twists into all sorts of amusing shapes as he grapples with the feeling of having you inside him.  You love how his eyes vacillate wildly between focusing on your face with determination and gazing off into the distance, lost in those pleasured feelings. 

You love him.  Everything about him.  And it makes the acts of love that you share indefinitely better than any other.

As you lean into him, feeling his warmth, his love, his pleasure, a deep feeling inside you begins to rise.  A familiar need, gnawing with want.  A gaping void, desperate to be filled, and for once, you aren’t referring to your ass.

Your thirst. 

It’s something you can usually ignore until a convenient time, like when you’re not boning your boyfriend.  But after going through all of those metamorphic changes, your body is craving it.  You crave something to drink like a dying man in the desert.

And unfortunately, you aren’t craving just any drink.

You need blood.

You need Jake’s blood.

You need it NOW.

You whine into his ear, trying to stave off the sudden overwhelming feeling.  It’s so hard not to give your body everything it wants right now, because you’re so parched for everything. 

For Jake. For love. For sex.  For blood.

At some point, you teeth have grown long and sharp, and you feel the telltale twin fangs pressing against your lower lip, begging to be used.

Despite currently being railed and half aware, Jake notices the change in you and reaches up to gently rub your shoulder.  “What’s—what’s wrong?” he murmurs to you, his voice coming out in short rasps between your thrusts.

“Jake I’m—”  you begin, then stop as the overwhelming need to drink from him courses through you again.  You find yourself licking his neck before you can stop yourself, but with a deep growl, you pull your head back up and kiss the shell of his ear instead.

“You’re?” He asks, threading his hand up into your hair and grasping the strands near your neck.  “Dirk what’s wrong?”

“I’m gonna—” you gasp again, managing to swallow away the need a few seconds longer. “I’m gonna bite you.”

Your lover’s breath stills for a second in surprise, but then he relaxes and nods against you.  “It’s the change isn’t it?”

You whine and nod against him, feeling the unrelenting need pulling you.

“It’s ok,” Jake murmurs, gently pulling your head down to his neck.  “Go ahead.”

He understands. Thank the fucking stars above he understands.

You can’t hold yourself back any longer.  With another low deep growl you lick his neck again, easily finding the most desirable vein.  In less than a second, you sharply pierce his skin with your fangs.  It’s hard to control your impulses right now, and you sink them in deeper than you probably need to.

His blood feels like it’s electrically charged as it hits your tongue.  You drink from him needily, filling your destitute body with Jake’s warm rich life’s essence.  As you drink from him, you’re struck again with just how _powerful_ your boyfriend is.  You’ve never drank First Guardian blood before. 

It’s nearly overwhelmingly strong.  You feel so much energy coursing through your body that it’s almost painful, but you can’t stop drinking.  You need this.  You need him.

You drink while you fuck him, and life is more beautiful than it’s ever been before.  Jake is moaning hotly in your ear, his hips moving along with you and his dick swelling until it’s painfully hard.  You know he loves this just as much as you do.

You drink from him a few seconds more before Jake finally starts to tug at the back of your head gently with his hand.  “Dirk, please… you’ll be hurt if you take much more.”

Jake’s right.  You can already feel the staggering power rushing inside your body.  It’s almost too much to handle.  Despite feeling like you could drink from him all day, you force yourself to pull your teeth from his neck, licking the wound closed.

Jake knows what happened.  Somehow he knows that his blood is too strong for a demon like you to drink in excess.  Knowing Jake, you’re certain that he has a story or two for a later date, but the look in his eyes tells you he has other things on his mind right now. “Are you all right?”

“Better than all right,” you answer him truthfully.  You can feel your body assimilating that raw power from Jake’s blood, making it your own.  Your body is healing itself, and now all it needs is that last burst of sexual pleasure from your lover to finish it off.

He laughs and shakily says, “G-good because I’m—I don’t think I can—I can hold back much more!”

“Come for me, love,” you murmur to him, then lean down and capture his lips in a ravishing kiss.  You love tasting him.  You love feeling his dick hard and hot in your hand. And you love feeling the warmth of his body all around you.

Your tail wraps around his torso of its own volition, pulling Jake closer to you, and you don’t even try to stop it. You smile into the kiss as you feel his dick harden even more in your hand.  He’s so close.  And you can’t wait for him to come.

“Nnnn—aaaHH!!!” he cries into your mouth as he spills himself in your hand and on his own stomach.

His pleasure is so bright, it’s nearly blinding even with your eyes closed.  The heat of his energy is brilliant as the green sun within him.  Its warm rays wash over you, filling you with its radiating warmth.  And in the center of it all you feel the best thing of all.

Jake’s love.

It’s yours.  And you’re going to keep it forever.

You hold him tightly in your arms. 

He’s yours. 

_He’s yours_.

**_Jake’s yours._**

And with that comforting thought in mind, you come, surrounded by your boyfriend’s warmth and love.  You fill him with your desire, noting that it’s more than usual.  Somehow you doubt Jake will mind.

Your thoughts are hazy at best as you come down from the high, not bothering to pull yourself out of him as you lay lazily on top of your lover.  Your wings fall down on top of you both, like a giant leathery blanket.  Your tail is still curled around Jake’s body.  You’re not sure how long the two of you lay there, peacefully letting the world drift by while you remain connected with each other in every sense of the word.

Time passes.  You remain content to be surrounded with Jake, and you sigh softly as he lightly runs his fingertips through your hair and down your back.  He pauses for a moment before continuing to the juncture where your wings are now.

It makes you shiver when he dances his fingertips across the leathery membranes of your new wings, tracing the angular bones and prodding lightly at the soft but durable flaps between them.  “I take it, you’re feeling all right?” he finally murmurs to you.

“More than all right,” you agree, kissing his cheek gently before removing yourself from his body.  It fills you with a bit of pride for some reason when he whines a bit at the loss of contact.  You quickly fall into his arms again when he reaches for you.  “Fuck, Jake, your blood.  It’s—I feel like I’ve got _too_ much energy.”

“I did try to warn you,” Jake laughs.  Then with a wink, he says, “how about we use up some of that energy?”

You look at him with surprise. “Again?”

“Not sex, old chap!” He laughs and swats your shoulder lightly.  Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he suggests, “ _flying_.  Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to fly?  Why don’t you try your new wings?”

Words cannot describe how much you love Jake right now.  Kissing him one more time, you fling yourself off him in a flurry of energy and toss his clothes at him.  “Get dressed.  We’re going flying.”

Then you frown at your own clothes, wondering just how you’re going to get them back on with all your new—appendages.  Namely your wings and tail.

Jake’s dressed and by your side before you even work your pants back on.  You decide to skip the boxers.  He laughs and says, “A couple holes never hurt anything!  Just tear a few and we’ll have Kanaya make you some fabulous new duds soon!”

You have to agree with Jake. Kanaya is the best seamstress you’ve ever met, and you don’t see any alternatives right now.  So after slicing a few well-placed holes with your new claws, you manage to work your tail and your wings through your clothes.  Without a second thought, you sweep Jake up in your arms and jump out the room’s window.

And then you realize you’ve never used your wings before and have absolutely zero coordination with them.  Jake looks mildly alarmed as you both plummet toward the ground.

You stretch out and test one wing, then the other.  And finally, right before the dark purple hued cobblestone of Derse’s ground meets with your head, you spread both of your wings and fly.

Jake laughs as you both soar through the sky.  He loops his arms around your neck and holds on tight. “I knew you could do it!  Never doubted you for a second!”

“Sure you didn’t,” you answer wryly, then turn your attention back to gliding through the air.  The castle quickly becomes small below you, and all of the streets and homes shrink down to a sprawling grid-like pattern.  It all glows in that mystical purple hue that is even more beautiful from up above, like highlighted neon lines on a spider’s web.

In Derse, it isn’t too uncommon of a site to see a demon flying around in the skies, but you know that you’d never be able to do this in some places, like back in the city where your little brother is probably just about to head back home with his boyfriend.  You can only imagine how beautiful the ground below would be back home.

Still, Derse or no, you find that you love the feeling of soaring through the air.  You’ve talked to some of your demonic friends who could fly before.  They all told you they wouldn’t trade their flight for any other abilities.

You didn’t get it before, because you thought some other abilities were pretty sweet.  The whole healing really fast thing.  Living pretty much forever.  Super speed.  Super strength.  The list continued on and on.

But now you’re starting to understand why they loved their ability so much.  This brings your perception of the world to a whole new level.  You thought you were fast before, but now you know that nothing can stop you.  You wonder if you can use your flash abilities with flying, but you decide promptly that you won’t experiment while Jake is still in your arms.

Speaking of Jake, he seems perfectly content to cling to you, and he stares at the ground below with that happy toothy smile of his.  You spend at least an hour or two flying around, testing your new ability, and working off some of the excess energy from Jake’s blood.  But Jake doesn’t seem to mind at all.  Quite the opposite, after the initial enthusiasm he shared, he slowly relaxes more and more into your arms, leaning his head against your shoulder with a happy sigh.

Your hands are full, but your tail twirls around Jake and gently caresses his cheek.  Jake laughs and kisses the appendage softly.  “I think I quite like this tail of yours,” he remarks.  “It does everything you haven’t the gall to do.”

“Hey, I have lots of gall,” you retort, sighing as your tail decides to entwine around Jake’s arm and hold him close.  You’ll make your tail behave someday.

Eventually, you fly back to the window you left.  Gently, you deposit Jake on the bed and climb in after him.  You’re still buzzing from the excitement of flying around, and from everything.  Your new body, your new abilities.  But mentally you’re worn from it all.

“Dirk, I do believe a brief respite is in order,” Jake murmurs, snuggling closer to you and lightly pressing a kiss to your jaw.  “This day has been a bit exhausting!”

Jake seems to be sleepy too, and you remind yourself that he did expend a good deal of his own energy to help your metamorphosis and to feed you.  You don’t fully understand everything he had to do, but you know that it couldn’t have been easy for him either.  He also had to suffer through that uncertainty of whether he had lost you.  He took a risk by helping you tonight, but you are glad that he did.

“Yeah, let’s take a little break.  We have a whole lifetime to explore the universe,” you murmur.  You curl up next to your lover and pull him close to your body, then you draw the bed sheets over both of you.  Affectionately, you press a kiss to his lips, and you feel that happiness that always fills you when he kisses you back.

“I agree,” Jake murmurs sleepily.  “Tomorrow I’ll show you… my favorite little city in the galaxy.  I wonder if… that delightful little restaurant is… still there?”

You think that question may have been rhetorical, because Jake is asleep before you even get a chance to answer him.  Instead, you smile and press one more kiss to his forehead, drawing him close.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but one thing is certain.  With Jake by your side you know that you can take on anything the universe throws your way.  The rest of your life will be one very exciting adventure.

You can’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Update Thursday and Happy Holidays to the best readers ever! That’s you! =)
> 
> At the end of the story, which was roughly 4 months ago, I left you with some deep thoughts. I heard from several of you that you were inspired by the story and wanted to start your own ventures. It gives me no greater joy as an author than to hear that! I truly hope that you have been able to grasp life by the reigns and accomplish everything you wanted to do!
> 
> But I’ll follow that up with this thought: don’t be discouraged if the things you wanted to do haven’t happened yet! (Or if they aren’t perfect.) It takes time to make a good product, whether that’s a story, a work of art, or anything really. The first step is opening up that word document, picking up a pen, or even quite literally taking a step outside your door. 
> 
> The world’s a big place and it’s constantly changing. There’s still plenty of time for you to do the things you want to do, so don’t ever feel like you’re limited.
> 
> For my part, I do have a couple more bonus epilogue chapters planned, but I have no idea how long it will take me to write them. In the meantime, check out the new story I’ve started with Sachi-sama! It’s called “Blood and Coffee” and it features vampire Dirk and coffee-shop barista Jake! It’s cute, I love it, and I hope you’ll love it too! Read it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2669915)!
> 
> As always, I’m here for anyone who wants to talk! My email and [tumblr ](http://lateniteslacker.tumblr.com/)are both in my [profile](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LateNiteSlacker/profile).
> 
> Love, peace, and best wishes for a happy and prosperous new year!


End file.
